


After All These Years

by poetzproblem, skywarrior108



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Future, Mental Health Issues, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 176,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywarrior108/pseuds/skywarrior108
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Success isn’t something that can be measured, but it’s always hard-fought and earned.</p><p>After falling out of touch during college, Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry have continued on without each other in their lives. They’ve had their share of obstacles and heartache and struggle, but now they are starting to find their way.</p><p>One day, Quinn and Rachel unexpectedly cross paths again, throwing them off balance and bringing up long-buried questions and emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After All These Years

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archive of the poetzwarrior 1x1 Faberry RP on tumblr ([Quinn Fabray](http://quinn-jfc.tumblr.com/) | [Rachel Berry](http://berrycenterstage.tumblr.com/)). Canon compliant through most of season 4, with a major event from season 5 incorporated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Sunday, October 20, 2019**  
>  After falling out of touch during college, Rachel and Quinn unexpectedly cross paths again, throwing them off balance and bringing up long-buried questions and emotions.

**QUINN:** It’s game day. Surprisingly, game days have become ones that Quinn looks most forward to. Sure, being a cheerleader for an NFL team that she never cared for growing up might not be what she had imagined for herself, but joining the Jets Flight Crew is one of the better decisions she’s made in the last few years.

Quinn pulls off the Garden State Parkway and onto Route 3, taking the familiar path east toward MetLife Stadium. These days, she’s driving an old Volkswagen Jetta, but it’s reliable enough to get her around a very congested North Jersey. Even at this early hour on a Sunday morning, the highways aren’t exactly empty, but, fortunately, she arrives at her destination fairly quickly.  
Kickoff isn’t for another three hours, but the parking lots at MetLife Stadium are already filled with fans tailgating. Loud bass bleeds through the windows of Quinn’s car as she navigates her way through the crowd, careful not to hit the kids tossing a football around.

She flashes her parking permit to the security guard, who lets her into the lot dedicated to players and team staff members. After parking, she grabs her gym bag and makes her way inside the stadium and to the Flight Crew’s locker room. Her lips curve up without thought as she catches sight of some of her fellow cheerleaders—her friends. The main reason game day is one she looks forward to.

 **RACHEL:** Her morning routine isn’t any different than it has been on any other Sunday. Rachel rises bright and early at 6:00 a.m., changes into her workout clothes, and enjoys a light breakfast of fruit and yogurt before she goes through her yoga routine. She finds it helps to clear her mind and keep her body in peak physical condition to meet the demands of eight performances a week.

This week, she’ll only have seven. Her understudy will be covering the matinee this afternoon to allow Rachel the honor of performing the National Anthem at MetLife Stadium for one of New York’s two professional football teams.

Admittedly, Rachel isn’t much of a football fan. She knows the basics of the game thanks to her years with Finn, but she’s never felt the need to follow the sport on her own. She feels a familiar wave of melancholy at the memory of him, even after six years, but she has to smile at the thought of how excited he’d be for her today if he were here. Of course, he’d probably be more excited to watch the game and cheer on the Jets.

Shaking off her thoughts of Finn, Rachel finishes her workout and pads into the bathroom to shower. She might not care much about the game itself, but she is excited to sing in front of a stadium full of people, even if it is only one song. She’s been performing to a packed house every day for the last seven months as Andy in _The Devil Wears Prada_ —her breakout role after years of toiling in ensembles and playing supporting characters—but the 1,400 seats inside the Imperial Theatre is nothing compared to 82,000 plus. She really hopes that she doesn’t flub the words. She’d hate to have her performance turned into an internet meme.

Stepping out of the shower, she grabs a towel and dries the water droplets from her body before wrapping it around like a sarong. She takes a second towel and begins to dry her hair as she walks to her bedroom, taking a moment to push open her closet door so she can study her wardrobe. Perhaps she should have thought to purchase a team jersey in order to please the crowd, but she supposes she’ll have to settle for something in the team colors. She just happens to have a green, button down blouse in the appropriate shade. Maybe she’ll pair it with her white, jean jacket and a pair of blue jeans. It is supposed to be a little on the chilly side today.

Outfit decided on, Rachel throws her towel aside and begins to get dressed. She still has some time before the car is scheduled to pick her up, but she needs every minute to make sure she looks her very best for the cameras and that her voice is suitably warmed up so she can hit every note with ease. She can’t wait to kick off the day.

 **QUINN:** She’s greeted with warm hugs and a hot cup of coffee, and she instantly feels at home. These women are such a far cry from catty, backstabbing Cheerios from her high school years. They’re supportive like Quinn thinks sisters are supposed to be—although she wouldn’t really know, considering her less-than-stellar relationship with Frannie.

Quinn is quick to shake those thoughts off though as the Flight Crew starts to get ready for pre-game warmups and appearances. After going through a lengthy series of stretches to get her body warmed up, Quinn dons a pair of skin-colored dance tights before slipping on the short, white skirt of her uniform. Normally, it’s accessorized with a gold-studded white belt, but since October is breast cancer awareness month, she’s wearing a pink belt instead. Her top is simple. It’s really nothing more than a fancy sports bra—white with a dark green and gold collar. White, knee-high boots with the gold Jets Flight Crew logo embroidered at the top finish off the look.

A quick touch up of her makeup and fixing a few stray strands of hair later, and Quinn is ready to go. She and a few of the other girls are scheduled to meet with some VIP fans for photos, so they make their way to the Coaches Club—a field-level club with direct access to the sideline. Quinn doesn’t want to think about how much money it costs for those tickets. Probably more than she’ll make in her entire career as a Flight Crew member. But then, she’s not exactly in this for the money.

After a half hour of taking photos, they rejoin the rest of the squad out on the field to go over their routines one more time before opening kickoff.

 **RACHEL:** The private car is courtesy of the Jets organization, and Rachel is surprised to discover that they have a police escort going into the stadium. She feels like an honest to goodness celebrity.

Well, technically she is. She’s starring in this year’s best musical, and she’d made a number of small appearances on the morning talk show circuit in the spring along with her cast to promote the show. And anyone who’d watched the Tonys this year would have seen her perform—but not win her first Tony, unfortunately. She’s happy for the show though, and happy for her costar, Audra, who had taken home her own much deserved award.

Gazing out the window, Rachel can see the snarled traffic and a sea of green and white clad fans tailgating in the parking lot, and she understands the need for the police cars. Her own vehicle cuts through the congestion with ease, and before she knows it, they’re pulling up to the designated entrance, and her car door is being opened by one of the staff. He offers a hand to help her out of the car and a friendly smile. “Ms. Berry. Welcome to MetLife Stadium.”

There’s a whirlwind of activity swirling around her as she’s escorted into the stadium and given a rapid fire explanation of what will be happening. She’s handed a pink ribbon to pin on her jacket as she’s led to the end of the tunnel where she’ll wait for her cue to walk out onto the field. Rachel fumbles with the pin, attempting to make sure that it’s on straight as her stomach erupts in butterflies. The roar of the crowd from inside the stadium is nearly deafening already and the game hasn’t even begun.

A small microphone is set up at the fifty yard line facing the sideline, and Rachel is instructed to follow the honor guard onto the field and wait until the announcement signaling that the flag will be unfurled before walking to the microphone. She does as she’s told, and the faces around her are a blur as adrenaline pumps through her system. When she hears the announcement, she carefully makes her way to the microphone and takes a breath, tramping down her nerves and focusing on her impending performance.

The crowd cheers as the giant American flag is spread out behind her, and Rachel smiles, feeding off their energy even though it’s not specifically meant for her. Then the speakers in the stadium echo with the announcement that she’s waiting for; “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we ask you to join us in the singing of our National Anthem. Currently starring as Andy in _The Devil Wears Prada_ on Broadway, please welcome Rachel Berry.”

The cheers grow even louder, and Rachel allows herself a moment to bask in the adulation before she mentally shifts into performance mode. And right on cue, she lets her voice ring out, loud and clear, through the stadium, nailing her performance and hitting every note.

 **QUINN:** Fifteen minutes before kickoff, and the stadium is already buzzing. The crowd always get extra amped up for divisional games, and Quinn smirks at how lustily they boo the Patriots as they run on to the field. Those boos quickly turn to cheers, however, when the announcer introduces the home team. The Flight Crew is lined up outside the tunnel to cheer the players on to the field, and Quinn shakes her pompoms—pink instead of the standard green and silver—in a motion that’s been second nature for over a decade.

The Flight Crew splits up into four groups, each running off to stand along the sidelines between the end zone and 20 yard line. Quinn’s group ends up on the visitor’s sideline just as the announcer asks the crowd to rise for the National Anthem. She turns her attention to midfield, watching as the honor guard unfurls the American flag. And then the stadium announcer says 15 words that make her heart stop—"Currently starring as Andy in _The Devil Wears Prada_ on Broadway, please welcome Rachel Berry.“

The crowd roars in approval, but Quinn barely hears it, because after six years of having cut everyone and everything having to do with McKinley out of her life, the universe has blindsided her with a blast from her complicated past. She blinks, wondering if she’s somehow dreaming as she drinks in the sight of Rachel. The last time Quinn saw her was at Mr. Schue’s ill-fated wedding that wasn’t. And then Finn died, and…

The crowd quiets, and there’s a beat of silent anticipation before Rachel opens her mouth, her voice falling then rising as she begins to sing. Quinn shivers, but it’s not from the cold. It’s from that voice that used to both soothe and haunt her—almost like a siren’s call leading her to her end—and she quickly realizes that fact hasn’t changed.

Cheers rain down as Rachel sings the final two lines of the anthem, and Quinn almost forgets that she’s supposed to do the same. She waves her pompoms in the air, going through the familiar motions, almost moving on autopilot. Rachel’s walking toward her now, and blood rushes through Quinn’s veins. She doesn’t know if she wants Rachel to see her or not, and the uncertainty has her feeling like a deer in headlights.

 **RACHEL:** Reveling in the applause, Rachel gives a final wave to the fans before turning to her right and beginning to walk down the sideline toward the tunnel that she’d been instructed to exit through. Still buzzing with the energy of an outstanding performance and relieved to have gotten through it without any mistakes, most of her attention is on making her exit, but she does take the time to glance around at the faces on the sidelines and the sheer size of the crowd surrounding them.

Some of the players—decidedly not the Jets (she thinks they’re the Patriots)—nod at her or send her appreciative leers as she quickly passes by them, and she feels dwarfed by their hulking frames. They’re all so much taller than any of the boys who’d played on the team back in high school, even Finn. Her eyes stray to the group of Jets cheerleaders that are also standing along the sideline, waving their pom-poms as she walks past, and she has a similar thought about their attractiveness. With that fleeting notion still dancing around in her head, she almost thinks that she’s imagining how much a blonde cheerleader in the middle of the group resembles Quinn Fabray, but then a pair of hazel eyes meets hers, and she nearly trips over her own feet and falls head first onto the fifteen yard line.

“Quinn?” she practically whispers, gaping at the woman not six feet away from her.

She hasn’t seen Quinn Fabray in more than six years. No one has. Quinn had as good as fallen off the face of the earth after their first year of college without even a goodbye to any of their friends or acquaintances. It had happened so quickly, coming right on the heels of losing Finn, and frankly, her absence had felt like a slap in the face to everyone. And Rachel should know—she’s well aware of what it feels like to be slapped by Quinn, both literally and metaphorically.

Rachel had hardly known what to think once she’d recovered from her grief enough to realize that Quinn’s disappearance wasn’t merely a temporary thing. She’d been understandably upset when Quinn hadn’t come home for Finn’s memorial service, but she’d been struggling so much with her own heartbreak at the time that she didn’t have the energy to worry about whatever Quinn had been going through to keep her from being there with Finn’s friends. She’d just figured that she’d see Quinn again eventually, and they’d be able to talk about everything then. After all, Quinn had been the one to say that she wanted to make sure they never lost touch.

Once it became clear that Quinn had actually cut ties with everyone—well, Rachel had been angry, at least after the initial worry had faded. Now, being faced with the woman again, very much alive and obviously very healthy, she doesn’t really know what she should be feeling other than shock.

Quinn purses her lips and shakes her head so slightly that anyone who wasn’t staring at her as intently as Rachel is right now wouldn’t even sense a change in her posture. A hundred questions dance on the tip of Rachel’s tongue, but one of the Jets staff who’s still on the field overseeing the disbursement of the pregame equipment notices her obvious hesitation and comes up behind her, touching her elbow. “Right that way, Ms. Berry,” he urges, pointing to the tunnel, and Rachel gets the message loud and clear. This is not the time or place.

With one final look at Quinn, Rachel hurries off the field, entering the tunnel to find the staff member who’d escorted her into the stadium. “Fantastic job, Ms. Berry,” he compliments with a smile. “Would you like me to escort you to the Coaches Club now?”

Her invitation to sing today had included an additional invitation to watch the game in the exclusive VIP lounge on the fifty yard line. She hadn’t been planning to stay past the pregame, but now, she has no plans to leave this stadium until she has a chance to talk to Quinn Fabray.

 **QUINN:** "Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” is the only thought in her mind when brown eyes lock on her, shining with surprised recognition. Having Rachel standing mere feet away after all these years is surreal. She looks amazing, Quinn thinks despite herself, but Quinn doesn’t miss the confused and wounded expression on Rachel’s face as her name is whispered, and she almost feels guilty about, well, everything. Almost.

Old walls come crashing back down, and she steels herself, hoping that Rachel gets the hint that now is not a good time. Although, she doubts there ever will be a good time. As a staff member begins to escort Rachel off the field, Quinn lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. She fights the urge to watch Rachel go and tries to rein in the whirlwind of emotions that are threatening to rise up.

Sara and Marissa, who are standing alongside Quinn, cast questioning looks her way, but there’s no time for an explanation. Their attention needs to be on the game and on the crowd, and it’s going to stay that way until halftime. She’s grateful for the distraction, and she tries to forget that she was just standing face-to-face with Rachel Berry.

 **RACHEL:** She’s not really watching the game—she’d barely made herself care about it for Finn’s sake once upon a time—but Rachel’s eyes keep darting between the exceptional view of the field and the row of high definition monitors concurrently broadcasting various camera angles of the game for any glimpse of the Jets Flight Crew. She has to admit, the moniker for the squad is certainly more clever than the Cheerios. Every once in awhile, Rachel catches sight of Quinn in her revealing uniform, smiling and cheering for the Jets, and she’s thrown back in time. It seems incredibly unfair to Rachel that Quinn Fabray is somehow still the prettiest girl she’s ever met.

And, well—Quinn is certainly still very fit. She would have to be to have made the squad, and even thinking about that, knowing that Quinn has been practically under her nose for who knows how long, leaves Rachel’s mind spinning with so many questions. How had Quinn gone from Yale to becoming a professional cheerleader? And why?

Rachel has barely touched the vegan friendly food that the staff has been so kind to prepare for her. Her mind and her emotions are simply in too much of a tizzy to allow her to eat, racing through a breakneck course from confusion to hurt to anger to sadness until crashing into the unavoidable realization that she’s truly missed Quinn. For the most part, Rachel had put her former friend out of her mind after losing touch, but she can’t deny that she’s thought about her from time to time, wondering where she’d ended up and if she was okay. If she was happy. Seeing her again has reawakened Rachel’s need to understand what had happened all those years ago—why Quinn had cut her—everyone—out of her life.

The clock is slowly ticking down to halftime—they really need to stop stopping it every few seconds!—and Rachel is certain that the cheerleaders have to be allowed a suitable break as well as the players. They really are very…spirited out there. Once the whistle is blown, she has every intention of flagging down someone who can tell her where she can find Quinn.

 **QUINN:** It takes a good ten minutes after kickoff before Quinn finally starts to feel more like herself, and she soon loses herself in the game and the routines. During each play, she cheers for the Jets, and in between each play, she turns to face the crowd and performs for them. And those performances are far from simple—each week they choreograph new routines that they spend hours practicing.

Even though deep down Quinn has no real rooting interest, it’s always a better day when the Jets are winning, which they’re doing quite handily so far. A happy crowd makes her job much more enjoyable, and after her unexpected run-in with Rachel earlier, it’s definitely helped to settle her and stop her mind from revisiting the past and all the things she’d rather not think about.

Things are better now, she reminds herself. She’s better now.

The clock stops for the two-minute warning, and then seems to stop after every play as the Patriots attempt to put together a scoring drive. The crowd is extra loud now, trying to will the Jets defense to make a stop, and Quinn can’t help but get caught up in that energy. An interception in the end zone thwarts the Patriots attempts to score a touchdown, and the crowd erupts in a deafening roar. Quinn spins and cheers, waving her pompoms in the air and finding that her smile is genuine.

The Jets take a knee, letting the clock run down, the ref blows his whistle as the second quarter ends, signaling the beginning of halftime and a much-needed break to use the bathroom and freshen up before meeting with a few more VIP fans for photos.

“So, how do you know Rachel Berry?” Sara asks curiously as they walk off the field and into the tunnel.

“High school,” is all she offers.

“Small world, huh?” Marissa replies with a smile that lets Quinn know that she doesn’t need to say anything more.

 **RACHEL:** Cheers erupt through the Coaches Club when one of the Jets catches the ball and stops the other team from scoring, and Rachel can’t help smiling at the enthusiasm of everyone around her. The other guests in the room are an eclectic mix—entrepreneurs, playboys and playgirls, local and not-so-local celebrities, players’ families, and a few average fans who are living out a once in a lifetime experience. Rachel had spoken with several of them in between periods of obsessively seeking out Quinn on the field. She’s not one to ignore her fans or pass up a chance to be complimented on her brilliance, and she’d been pleasantly surprised to discover more than a few Broadway fans in this room.

The quarterback of the Jets kneels down on the field just before the whistle blows, and Rachel’s heart rate picks up. The club is buzzing with renewed activity as several of the guests who’d been glued to railings or monitors to watch the action on the field finally move from their spots, stretching their legs, rushing for the restrooms, and heading to the bar for drinks.

Glancing around, Rachel sees a staff member moving through the room and quickly walks over to her. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me how I might find one of the cheerleaders?”

The woman gives her an odd look, and Rachel feels her face heat. The last thing she wants is to be mistaken for some crazy stalker, but then the woman smiles politely and tells her that, “The flight crew usually meets with some of the VIP guests during halftime. If you’d like, Sean can escort you to where they are,” she says, pointing out a tall, blonde gentleman in a green blazer who is standing by the entrance and chatting with a small group of people. “Just tell him you’d like to meet the crew.”

“Thank you,” Rachel says gratefully, giving the woman a smile.

After weaving through the room, Rachel stops in front of the man named Sean, as evidenced by the shiny name-tag pinned to his lapel. She notices a few of the players walking past the glass windows behind them, presumably on the way to the locker room. Sean offers her a smile and a nod. “May I help you?”

“Yes. I was told to ask you if I can meet a member of the flight crew.”

Sean’s smile doesn’t waver. “Of course, Ms. Berry.” And Rachel is mildly impressed that he knows her name. “If you’ll just wait one moment, I’ll be escorting a few guests to the interview room for photos.”

Rachel frowns, having hoped that she might be able to speak with Quinn privately, but she supposes that this is actually Quinn’s place of work, and she obviously has duties to perform. Practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, Rachel waits out the agonizing seconds until the hallway clears and Sean invites her (and a small, handful of other guests who’ve been waiting around) to follow him.

She lingers in the back of the group, deciding that if, for some reason, Quinn isn’t in this interview room, she can make a quick exit and attempt to find someone else who might know how to get a hold of Quinn or at least get a message to her. Rachel does have a show tonight, and she doesn’t have any particular desire to stay for the rest of the game, but she still isn’t planning to leave this stadium before she’s actually spoken to Quinn.

When they enter the room, Rachel is surprised to see that the cheerleaders are already inside and posing with a few fans. She frowns, wondering how they’d managed to get in here faster than she had, but her curiosity disappears when sees Quinn across the room, her hair loose and a touch wild from a vigorous first half of cheering, smiling widely as she stands next to a gangly, young man. One of his arms is loosely wrapped around her waist while the other is looped around the waist of a very attractive brunette cheerleader on his other side. Rachel grins despite herself, thinking that he’ll probably have that photograph blown up and hung in a place of honor on his wall. Either that, or he’ll show it to everyone he meets.

The guests that Rachel had entered with have disbursed, drawn to the flight crew like bees to honey, but Rachel’s eyes remain on Quinn. Once the picture is taken, Quinn’s smile noticeably dims as she extricates herself from the pose and steps away. Rachel starts to move toward her but stops short when she sees Quinn walk straight over to a little girl with a leg brace before squatting down and smiling at her. Rachel can’t hear exactly what Quinn says to her, but the girl grins and says something back to her.

Rachel slowly drifts closer, staying out of Quinn’s line of sight, until the rich timbre of Quinn’s voice begins to register. “And how old are you, Chloe?”

“Six,” Chloe lisps back bashfully.

“Six,” Quinn repeats with a smile. “Wow. That’s a really good age. Is this your first time at a Jets game?”

Chloe nods. “Uh huh.”

“Are you having a good time?”

Chloe nods again, more vigorously. “I got popcorn.”

Quinn laughs. “I’m jealous. The popcorn here is really good,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Can I take a picture with you, Chloe?”

The little girl nods, and Quinn shifts, planting one knee on the floor and holding out an arm. Chloe steps into her side, and Quinn hands over one of her pink pompoms to the little girl, who holds it with a happy smile. Both of her parents juggle their phones to snap a few pictures, and Rachel notices that one of the staff photographers had walked over to them at some point and is aiming his camera at them as well.

The entire exchange tugs at Rachel’s heart, and she almost feels bad for eavesdropping. Almost.

Quinn gives Chloe a brief hug, telling her, “It was really nice to meet you, Chloe,” before she stands up. Chloe’s parents thank her, and Quinn says, “She’s a beautiful little girl. It was my pleasure. Enjoy the rest of the game.”

Quinn’s smile lingers when she steps away—until she turns in Rachel’s direction, and it disappears in an instant as her eyes widen.

“Rachel.”

“Hello, Quinn.”

 **QUINN:** Meeting fans like Chloe is probably the most rewarding part of this job. Yes, she genuinely loves cheering, but there’s nothing like making a little girl’s day by giving her a little of her time. Although, she doesn’t mind posing with gawking guys and making their day, so long as they keep their hands in appropriate places and any inappropriate thoughts to themselves. But today’s fan interactions have been overwhelmingly positive so far, she thinks as she poses for a picture with Chloe.

Even though she feels eyes on her, Quinn watches the little girl leave with her parents for a moment, wanting to savor the interaction just a bit longer. But when she turns to face the fan who’s waiting, Quinn feels like the rug has been pulled from under her feet.

“Rachel,” slips past her lips, and she hopes she doesn’t sounds as surprised as she feels.

“Hello, Quinn,” she replies, and it’s like being thrown back in time.

Quinn shakes her head and laughs lightly in disbelief, not knowing what else to do, because it figures. “I guess some things haven’t changed,” she says with a wry smile, thinking of all the times Rachel had sought her out in high school—bathrooms, hallways, and under the bleachers.

Her smile slips though as the present catches up with her, and the reality is that she hasn’t spoken to Rachel since before Finn died. She likely wants to know why, but Quinn isn’t exactly feeling up to taking a trip down memory lane right now (or ever again). Granted, she probably at least owes Rachel an apology, but how would she even begin?

“Would you like me to take a picture of you two, Ms. Berry?” Sean asks, saving Quinn from having to say anything more, although the proposition of posing for a photo—being that close to Rachel again—has her feeling inexplicably nervous.

 **RACHEL:** “I guess some things haven’t changed,” Quinn comments with a sardonic smile.

Rachel frowns slightly, wondering what exactly that means. She happens to think that she’s changed quite a bit in the years since she and Quinn had last spoken. Well—maybe not so much physically, though she has stopped adding those blonde highlights to her hair that she’d favored during her first several years in New York.

But Rachel had lost so much of the unabashed confidence and unwavering optimism that she’d once carried so unapologetically through her youth—eroded away by the harsh reality of life in New York and life after Finn. She hadn’t been the best or the brightest star in any of her classes at NYADA, and she hadn’t won over the first casting director that she’d auditioned for with her unparalleled talent and drive to succeed. She’d been turned away from role after role for being too young, too Jewish, too short, too inexperienced, and worst of all, not pretty enough. The instinct to pick up the phone and call Finn after every failure had taken so very long to overcome, leaving an aching emptiness inside of her.

Sure, she’d had Kurt and Santana in the beginning, but they’d had their own lives to focus on and very different approaches in their attempts to reassure Rachel that she was exactly where she belonged. She’d really missed have someone like Finn who’d been wholly in her corner. Or—well, honestly—someone like Quinn who’d believed in her (without the professional competitiveness that Kurt had often displayed) but wasn’t afraid to tell her (in less colorful ways than Santana Lopez) when she was doing something wrong.

It’s only been very recently that Rachel has tasted the success that she’d longed to experience, and the years of professional (and personal) disappointment have changed her—she hopes for the better.

Quinn has changed as well, and Rachel isn’t merely thinking in terms of the skimpy cheerleading uniform that shows off a toned stomach and thighs that are far more sculpted than they’d been back in high school. The Quinn that had gone off to Yale had seemed grateful for the friends that she’d made. This one has cut all ties with all of them.

In the moments before Quinn effectively schools her features, a myriad of emotions races through her expressive eyes, ending on regret and what appears to be a trace of apprehension, and Rachel suspects that Quinn isn’t nearly as blasé about her presence here today as she’s trying to pretend.

Of course, she doesn’t have a chance to question Quinn because Sean appears at their side with a camera looped around his neck, asking, “Would you like me to take a picture of you two, Ms. Berry?”

Rachel grits her teeth, nearly growling at the interruption. She doesn’t want a picture! She wants to talk to Quinn. She opens her mouth to say ‘no’—politely, of course—but the word dies on her lips because if she refuses, some other person in here will probably pull Quinn away again, and Rachel will lose her chance. So she flashes a well-practiced smile at Sean. “You know, I would absolutely love a picture. Thank you so much, Sean.”

Beside her, Quinn sighs—whether in resignation or exasperation, Rachel can’t quite decide. “What do you say, Quinn?” she challenges. “One picture for old time’s sake?”

 **QUINN:** The challenging flash in Rachel’s eyes and tone takes Quinn all the way back to sophomore year, and she feels herself responding in a very similar way as she did all those years ago—and, to her chagrin, for some of the same reasons. But she can’t help but respond to Rachel, and despite the nerves running through her right now, she’s not about to back down.

She offers Rachel a cool smile. “Why not?” she replies, placing her hands on her hips and standing a little straighter. “After all, it’s part of my job, and, apparently, you’re kind of famous now.”

 **RACHEL:** Rachel bristles and her eyes narrow. Maybe Quinn hasn’t changed all that much after all. Or, more precisely, maybe that uniform of hers has caused her to change back to that girl who’d always managed to make Rachel feel like she’s somehow inferior. Of course, Rachel really couldn’t know for certain, could she? Quinn hasn’t given her the chance.

“Yes, I am,” she agrees haughtily. “And I would have happily sent you tickets to my show had you…oh, I don’t know…kept in touch.” And okay, maybe the petulance in her tone is a little childish, but she’d really believed that they’d finally become friends all those years ago. It stings more than it should to think that she’d been so wrong.

 **QUINN:** And, dammit, there’s that guilt again. She didn’t mean to hurt Rachel, but things were too messy and complicated, and it’s honestly somewhat of a miracle that she’s still here. That she’s managed to find something she loves doing is icing. But she’s not about to tell Rachel that, she thinks, pursing her lips in frustration.

“I’m sorry about that, Rachel,” she relents, softening just a bit. And she really is sorry, “But I had my reasons for what I did, and it isn’t a conversation we’re having right now,” she adds pointedly, hoping Rachel will let it go and just take the damn picture so she can get this over with.

Her nerves have been tested way too much today, and it’s all because of this beautiful woman whose mere presence still turns her inside out.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel catches a glimpse of genuine remorse in Quinn’s eyes as she offers an apology, but then Quinn—being Quinn—attempts to coolly end the discussion without providing any kind of suitable explanation, and that is simply unacceptable. “When can we have that conversation, Quinn?” Rachel presses, unwilling to be deterred. “Because I want to know what happened to make you disappear from my life without a word just when I most needed you to be there.”

Her voice cracks slightly over the last words, and she drags in a thready breath, quickly composing herself again. She hates thinking about that time in her life. Finn’s death had left her devastated for a long while, and she’d needed all of her friends and family around her to help her heal. Quinn’s presence would have been a balm to her wounded soul, but instead, her unexplained absence had been yet another loss from which Rachel had needed to recover.

There’s a flash of hurt in Quinn’s eyes at the mention of those dark days, and she opens her mouth to respond, but Sean purposely clears his throat, interrupting them. “Um, forgive me ladies,” he says warily, eyes darting back and forth between them, “but am I taking your picture or not?”

Quinn snaps her mouth closed, letting her mask fall back into place and looking to Rachel with one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched higher than the other—and that certainly hasn’t changed—silently telling Rachel that the decision is all hers.

Once again, Rachel nearly says ‘no,’ thinking perhaps she should simply walk away and forget about pursuing an explanation from Quinn, but she hesitates at the odd thought that, of all the pictures she has of Quinn from high school tucked away in her drawer, she’s never actually had one of the two of them standing next to one another without some other person standing between them. So she takes a decisive breath, never breaking eye contact with Quinn, and says, “Yes. You are.”

 **QUINN:** Rachel finally breaks eye contact to hand Sean her phone so he can take a picture, and Quinn takes that moment to brace herself.

And then Rachel steps into her space, and Quinn’s nostrils flare as she breathes in—getting hit with the scent of raspberries and vanilla. God, Rachel still smells the same, and she’s suddenly flooded with sensations and memories—the bittersweetness of unrequited love combined with actually having Rachel’s friendship.

She mentally shakes her head. She isn’t in love with Rachel anymore, and they aren’t friends. But she reminds herself that the sooner they get this over with, the sooner she can try to forget this entire encounter even happened. She wraps her left arm around Rachel’s lower back, praying that Rachel doesn’t feel her subtle shaking, and plasters on a winning smile.

Rachel tentatively wraps her arm around Quinn’s lower back, and she’s hyper-aware of how close she is—the way her fingers barely brush against the bare skin above her hip.

Sean snaps the picture.

“Okay, ladies, halftime is almost over!” comes Flight Crew Director’s shout, and Quinn silently thanks the football gods for giving her a legitimate reason to extract herself from this position as she quickly steps back. Being around Rachel is bringing up too many intense emotions, and the lack of resolution between them is making it even more difficult.

“Look, I have to go,” she says, feeling a touch more relaxed now that she’s about to make her escape and Rachel is no longer touching her. But Quinn doesn’t miss the disappointed look on Rachel’s face, and there’s the damn guilt again. Still, she’s not going to lie and say some typical line like, ‘It was good to see you,’ but she feels like she owes Rachel something after all these years. “I’m sorry things got messed up between us, but for what it’s worth, I think your performance today was incredible. I always knew you had an amazing life ahead of you.”

 **RACHEL:** It’s almost a reflex to pose and smile for the camera—by now, Rachel has posed for hundreds of pictures just like this with her fans after performances—but something about having Quinn this close to her again after so many years is wreaking havoc with her equilibrium, and her own hand is hesitant at Quinn’s waist. Her fingers tingle where they brush Quinn’s skin—a long dormant sensory memory firing back to life.

But then, all too soon, someone is calling out a warning that halftime is nearly over, and Quinn quickly extricates herself from Rachel’s side, breaking the connection. Rachel turns to look at her with a mild frown.

“Look, I have to go,” Quinn says, sounding far too relieved about that for Rachel’s liking. “I’m sorry things got messed up between us, but for what it’s worth, I think your performance today was incredible. I always knew you had an amazing life ahead of you.”

Rachel doesn’t like to admit how much Quinn’s approval still means to her, but with just a few words, a familiar warmth blooms in her belly. “I remember,” she admits wistfully, accepting her phone back from Sean with a polite smile before turning back to Quinn. “You also once implied that I shouldn’t drag any anchors from the past into a bright future, but I’ve found that I’m rather fond of some of those anchors, Quinn. They keep me grounded. So you should already know that I’m not going to let you disappear on me again.”

It’s a promise to herself as much as it is to Quinn.

 **QUINN:** Her stomach twists in a funny way at Rachel’s promise not to let her disappear on her. Despite it all, Rachel still cares, and that thought is strangely comforting. And while she hadn’t considered herself to be an anchor from Rachel’s past when she made that remark to Rachel all those years ago in the girls’ bathroom—intent on helping Rachel get out of Lima—she certainly would be an anchor to her now. And not the kind Rachel wants. Quinn wouldn’t be someone to keep her grounded, she’d just drag Rachel down.

So Quinn can’t make any such promises in return. It would be better if Rachel just forgot that she even saw her today.

"Goodbye, Rachel,” she says, not waiting around for a response before turning to leave, not trusting herself to keep her features schooled. She runs to catch up with her fellow cheerleaders, focusing on the resuming of the game and hoping to calm the turbulent emotions running through her.

 **RACHEL:** As she watches Quinn practically run away from her, Rachel realizes that reconnecting with the stubborn woman is going to be a challenge. But Rachel has never been one to back down from a challenge.

“Excuse me, Sean,” she calls out, interrupting him him in his efforts to corral the guests back into the Couches Club. “I don’t suppose there’s any way that you might be able to provide me with any information on a member of the flight crew,” she prompts in a sweet voice, hoping for a hint that she might be able to charm him into offering some small detail, but he only smiles apologetically and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Berry. I really can’t.”

Rachel deflates slightly, nodding. “Could you at least give Quinn Fabray my phone number? I didn’t have a chance to share it with her before she had to rush back to the field. We went to high school together, you know, and I’d really like us to catch up.”

“I can pass it along,” he agrees.

“Wonderful,” Rachel says with a grin, fishing around in her jacket pocket for something to write on—silently cursing her decision to forgo a purse today—and coming up with the business card of the event manager that had greeted her earlier. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pen?”

Sean retrieves one from the inside of his coat pocket, offering it to her, and she quickly scribbles her name and number on the back of the card before handing it and the pen back to him. “I really do appreciate this, Sean. Please tell Quinn that I would love for her to call me, and I’d be happy to have two front row seats to my show available to her anytime she wants. She just needs to call,” Rachel stresses.

She knows it’s a longshot and that Quinn might very well throw her number away, but if there’s even a chance that the desire to see Rachel perform might tempt Quinn into contacting her, then Rachel is going to make sure the offer is on the table. In the meantime, she’s going to find out everything she can about the Jets Flight Crew and if there’s any way to track down Quinn outside of this stadium.

Rachel has a brand new mission, and its name is Reconnect with Quinn Fabray.


	2. How Soon Is Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, November 4, 2019**  
>  After unexpectedly crossing paths for the first time in six years, Rachel is determined to reconnect with an elusive Quinn by whatever means necessary.

**RACHEL:** It’s been two weeks since Rachel had run into Quinn Fabray at a New York Jets game, of all places. The surprise and confusion of seeing her there—a cheerleader once again—have since faded into disappointment that Quinn has failed to use the phone number that Sean had promised to pass along to her. A bit of internet stalk—er, _research_ —had failed to provide Rachel with any active way of contacting Quinn. Her phone number is unlisted, and she doesn’t have a twitter account—at least not one that matches the standard profile of the Jets Flight Crew. Rachel had taken a shot in the dark and stumbled over what appears to be Quinn’s tumblr page but her repeated private messages have thus gone unanswered.

Luckily, Rachel’s research had also uncovered a charity luncheon for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation that the Flight Crew is scheduled to attend, and she’d managed to buy a ticket to the event (at no small cost to her bank account) in the hope of seeing Quinn again. Some might consider it a tad excessive to go to such lengths for someone she hasn’t spoken to in six years, but Rachel really needs to know what went wrong with their friendship—something beyond Quinn having her _reasons_.

Rachel’s stomach is churning with nerves as she slips on her dress. She’d gone back and forth between several of them—she’s found that looking her best helps her feel more confident, and she really needs that confidence with Quinn—and she’s finally settled on a simple white, pleated dress with spaghetti straps, pairing it with beige heels and topping it with a red, faux leather jacket to battle the slight chill of the early November weather. She eyes herself critically in the mirror, freeing her hair from the collar of the jacket and arranging it strategically over her shoulders. She’s chosen to leave it loose and parted to the side today, and her makeup is soft and understated. Pleased with the overall look, she grabs her phone and calls for a taxi to take her downtown to Wall Street.

Quinn Fabray isn’t getting away from her without an explanation this time.

 **QUINN:** The charter bus carrying the Jets Flight Crew pulls to a stop outside Cipriani Wall Street at exactly 11:03 a.m. They’re already in uniform, having gotten ready back at MetLife Stadium, but Quinn is glad she’ll have some time to freshen up before the Flight Crew will be needed to greet the attending guests as they arrive at the New York City landmark.

As she steps off the bus, Quinn pauses for a moment to stare up at the building’s exterior, marveling at the monolithic columns, before heading up the the stairs and through the large, revolving doors. She’s been here for a few other events that the New York Jets Foundation has held in conjunction with other charities, but the luxurious venue still inspires a bit of awe.

The charity luncheon the Flight Crew is making an appearance at today is definitely for a worthy cause, and 100% of the proceeds will go toward juvenile diabetes research. And from what Quinn has gathered, people are paying top dollar for these tickets. Of course, the draw is being able to share a table with the players, but it’s still nice to be a part of something that is actually going to help children.

After a quick bathroom trip, the Flight Crew heads back outside and lines up along the sides of the grand building’s staircase, pompoms in hand to cheer people as they arrive, giving them an experience similar to what the players get when they run out of the tunnel on game day.

The guests begin to arrive a half hour before noon—some taking a short walk from their nearby offices on Wall Street, while others opt for a bit more extravagance, arriving in expensive cars and flashing their wealth. Quinn doesn’t miss the way some pairs of eyes roam over her body, but that high school motto of hers still holds true—it’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing. They can look, but they can’t touch, and it gives her a touch of satisfaction, making it easier for her smile to stay in place.

 **RACHEL:** The taxi delivers her to Cipriani Wall Street with plenty of time to spare before the official noon start time. There’s a traffic jam of towncars and limos lined up in front of the building, so her driver lets her out at the end of the block, and Rachel feels slightly conspicuous as she slides out of the bright, yellow car. Sure, she’s an up-and-coming entertainer in the industry, but she hasn’t yet reached the level of wealth or prestige of some of the other attendees.

As she walks along the sidewalk, she gazes up at the stately columns of the building, musing that it feels more like she’s going to a courtroom or a museum than a luncheon sponsored by the New York Jets Foundation. The building itself has such a rich history in the city and is a registered landmark, but it’s the elegant ballroom inside that draws most of its visitors now. Rachel has never actually been inside, and the chance to attend an event here today would make it worth the price of the ticket even if seeing Quinn again wasn’t a factor.

When her gaze falls back down to the entrance of the building, she stops short. The Jets Flight Crew is lined up outside on the steps, dressed in their uniforms and waving their pompoms to cheer on the guests as they make their way into the building. Rachel’s eyes dart over the women with their wide smiles, easily finding Quinn. This time, she’s fully prepared for the sight of her and the wistful nostalgia that accompanies it. She just isn’t quite prepared for how to approach her—she hadn’t been expecting to see Quinn until she was inside the building.

Taking a breath, Rachel squares her shoulders and begins to move forward, keeping her eyes on Quinn as she carefully climbs the steps. She’d hate to trip and fall at Quinn’s feet. Plastering a smile on her face to mask her nerves, Rachel pauses on the step just below Quinn, waiting for her head to turn away from the gentleman who’d just walked past her.

Rachel has to admit that she’s mildly impressed that Quinn’s smile stays frozen in place, even as her hazel eyes widen in obvious surprise the moment they land on her. Rachel shrugs a shoulder, silently dismissing the unspoken question of why she’s here.

“Hi, Quinn. Small world, isn’t it?”

 **QUINN:** Small world doesn’t even begin to describe it. Quinn’s not stupid—Rachel’s not here for any other reason than to see her. She thought Rachel would have gotten the hint after not getting a call or a response to the messages she sent to her blog. Although, there is the fact that she hasn’t thrown away Rachel’s number or deleted those messages, but she isn’t going to think about that right now.

Because right now, the very person she was hoping would just forget about their encounter two weeks ago has once again sought her out. Quinn doesn’t know whether to find Rachel’s persistence encouraging or annoying, and the fact that she’s not sure is even more frustrating. Regardless, her mere presence is once again throwing Quinn off balance, and her pulse quickens—nerves threatening to take over.

“Rachel, hi,” she replies, doing her best to keep her smile in place and opting to keep things strictly professional. It’s safer that way. “Thank you for coming today and supporting the foundation.”

 **RACHEL:** They both know the foundation isn’t the real reason Rachel is here. Of course, it is a reason. Rachel is happy to donate to a good cause, especially one involving children, but that had only been an extra incentive for her to make the decision to attend today. She’s certainly not here merely for the pleasure of having lunch with a few football players and coaches and rich, affluent football fans—the very ones who are casting annoyed looks in her general direction as they brush past her on the steps. Once again, this isn’t the time or place for a discussion, and Rachel knows by Quinn’s polite dismissal that Quinn knows it too—that she’s probably counting on it. Frankly, Quinn’s stoic professionalism is really starting to irritate her.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,“ Rachel says pointedly. "I will see you inside, won’t I?” she pushes, because if she has to stay out here lurking on the sidewalk to keep Quinn from disappearing on her again, she will absolutely do it.

Quinn’s nostrils flare slightly as she inhales, and Rachel can almost imagine that they’re back in high school on the stairwell in the midst of one of their old standoffs. But this is one she intends to win.

 **QUINN:** She inhales sharply and licks her lips as she looks at Rachel, not missing the challenge thrown her way. There’s an old, familiar rush, but it’s tinged with something different now.

It’s something like fear, because she knows she’s cornered, and Rachel has always had a way of making her walls come crashing down. And she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready to face the past. This isn’t about winning or losing anymore. This is about keeping herself safe.

"Of course you will,” she replies, doing her best to keep her composure. “We’ll be performing on stage later.” She looks at Rachel pointedly then, hoping she gets the hint to keep moving and go inside.

 **RACHEL:** Satisfied that Quinn is telling the truth and that she’ll be seeing her inside, Rachel nods and offers Quinn a relieved smile before she continues up the steps. She glances back over her shoulder when she reaches the top, her smile slipping when she notices how strained Quinn’s own smile now seems. For the first time, Rachel feels a twinge of guilt, and she considers that her sudden reappearance in Quinn’s life might have left her feeling as confused and off-balance as Rachel has been feeling. Of course, then she remembers that it was Quinn’s choice all those years ago that put them both in this position right now—that Quinn could have contacted Rachel anytime she’d wanted—and the guilt is instantly overpowered by hurt and frustration.

Turning away from Quinn with a sigh, Rachel continues into the building, fumbling to present her ticket to the gentleman at the door. Satisfied that she belongs here, he waves her inside, directing her to another gentleman who offers to check her jacket. She allows him to help her out of it and accepts the receipt before she finds one of the ushers to escort her to her table. Since she’d only donated the price of an individual ticket and not enough to earn a spot at one of the patron tables, she’s relegated to the outer circle of tables bordering the room—but what a room it is! A gold and crystal chandelier hangs from the center of the high, ornate ceiling, and Greek columns rise up from the floors in front of the interior walls, perfectly complementing the columns on the exterior. Rachel can definitely see why this venue is so popular. It’s like being inside of some ancient palace.

Soft Jazz plays as a soundtrack to the conversation around her as Rachel slides into her seat, murmuring a polite, “Hello,” to the other occupants of the table. Five of the ten chairs are already filled by an older gentleman and lady chatting quietly with one another, a younger couple that appears to be only a few years older than Rachel, and a man who looks to be in his late thirties wearing a very expensive suit and a very interested leer directed in the vicinity of her cleavage. Rachel suppresses a grimace and averts her eyes, staring at the design on the tablecloth in front of her and feeling grateful that she’d opted for this dress instead of the one with the far more revealing bodice. There’s a chance that this could be a very long afternoon.

But then the older lady to her left turns to her with a hesitant, “Excuse me, dear, but aren’t you in that show? The one that won the Tony this year?”

Pleased at the recognition, Rachel lifts her gaze and flashes her best show smile. “Why, yes. I am. Rachel Berry,“ she introduces herself. "It’s always nice to meet a fan of Broadway.”

The woman’s face lights up with an interested smile. There are few things that Rachel loves more than an audience, so she decides to pass the time until she can talk to Quinn by talking about her favorite subject. She never can seem to resist a fan.

 **QUINN:** As soon as Rachel disappears inside the revolving doors, Marissa’s warm hand finds Quinn’s back and runs along it soothingly, and Quinn tries to relax. Knowing she has her friends’ support, even if they don’t know the history between her and Rachel, helps steady her.

But only so much. There’s no shaking the fact that she’ll be seeing Rachel again, and there’s nothing she can do to avoid it. Not anymore.

Her past is bearing down on her like a freight train, and Quinn realizes then and there that trying to keep running from it it will be an entirely fruitless endeavor, because Rachel Berry isn’t merely a woman. She’s a force of nature. And if there’s anything Quinn knows, it’s that Rachel Berry is the most tenacious when she has her sights set on something.

As the Flight Crew heads inside, Quinn tries to mentally prepare for the inevitable.

"You going to be okay, Quinn?” Marissa asks as they walk into the main room, taking their positions alongside the tables that lead up to the stage where the players will enter from.

“Yeah,” she says, letting out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself down. She focuses on her breath then, keeping her own gaze fixated on the stage awash in green light, waiting for things to start. It helps a little, but not as much as it usually does.

At exactly noon, Bob Wischusen, the emcee for the event, steps on stage, and the soft jazz that was previously playing fades out. He thanks the guests for attending, and then introduces the Jets owner, who gives a brief speech. “The team is off to a tremendous start, but we still have a lot of work to do. Of course, we couldn’t do it without your generous support, and we thank you for donating to such an important cause.”

Quinn barely hears what he’s saying though, because she can practically feel Rachel’s eyes burning into her back. Her mind starts to race, and suddenly everything is moving too fast. Before she even realizes it, the players are being introduced, and as they step off the stage and on to the floor, heading to the tables to dine with the guests, Quinn plasters on a smile and cheers for them just like on game day, despite the anxiety creeping in. The room is filled with applause and excitement - most of the people here are die-hard fans, so getting to spend the afternoon with the players is a dream come true for them.

It doesn’t help Quinn’s state of mind.

The Flight Crew will be performing on stage next, and after that she’ll likely be facing the one guest who couldn’t care less about having lunch with an NFL player.

 **RACHEL:** Three of the four empty seats at her table are claimed a few minutes before noon by what Rachel assumes to be a father and his two teenaged sons, if the resemblance is anything to go by. Before that, she’d enjoyed a very pleasant conversation with Mrs. Cairns about her show that had kept her from having to pay much attention to Gary—of the expensive suit and leering gaze. During the course of the conversation, Rachel had discovered that Mr. Cairns is a retired sports reporter and lifelong fan of the Jets while Mrs. Cairns is simply a fan of cocktails and indulging her husband’s hobbies. She’d also discovered that the other couple at the table, Frank and Jessica Booker, are there to support the charity first and foremost because Jessica’s younger sister was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when she was twelve and has been battling the disease for most of her life. The revelation had sobered Rachel considerably, shining a harsh light on her own less than philanthropic reasons for attending this event.

The moment of contrition doesn’t last nearly as long as she knows it should, because she notices a blur of green and white from the corner of her eye and turns her head to find the Jets Flight Crew making their way through the room and stopping to line up in front of the stage. Her tablemates fade out of focus the second her gaze finds Quinn.

If pressed, Rachel isn’t at all sure that she would be able to clearly elucidate exactly why she’s always been so fascinated with Quinn Fabray. Certainly, there’d been a time when she’d wanted to be Quinn, but that time had mostly passed after Quinn had gotten pregnant and Rachel had gotten Finn. So she’d eventually chalked it up to wanting to earn Quinn’s respect (and friendship) because—well, she can’t say that she’d ever really had a rational reason for that. And after making a few discoveries about herself in the last several years, Rachel is beginning to think that her reasons for wanting to be Quinn’s friend have always been alarmingly irrational.

Really, how rational can she be when she’d spent $650.00 for a ticket to this event just for the chance to talk to Quinn again? She should probably laugh at her mad desperation, but she’s been too preoccupied with staring at the dips and muscles in Quinn’s back for the last seven minutes. Those uniforms really don’t leave very much to the imagination. And when did Quinn have her dreadful tattoo removed?

Rachel is only half paying attention to what’s being said at the microphone—she really couldn’t care less about how the current football season is progressing—but she claps politely when she’s supposed to, and soon enough, the players are being introduced, waving as they step off the stage and walk between the shaking pompoms of the Flight Crew before spreading out to head for the tables. It doesn’t matter who comes to sit with them, if anyone, because she’d much rather be having lunch with a certain cheerleader. And as soon as the squad performs their scheduled routine, Rachel plans to make that happen however she can.

 **QUINN:** “And now, performing to Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance,’ please welcome the New York Jets Flight Crew,” the emcee announces, and Quinn feels a familiar jolt of energy from the applause as the Flight Crew makes their way on stage. She’s somewhat thankful that their routine calls for them to be facing away from the audience to start. It makes it a little easier to concentrate.

The opening guitar riff plays for a few seconds, and they hold their ready positions—backs straight and legs apart with their pompoms at their hips—but as soon as the beat drops, the Flight Crew springs into motion.

Quinn thrusts her arms down in a low V and pushes her hips back slightly, shaking her pompoms, before bending over and then rolling her back up. She rolls her hips a few times before turning to face the crowd, her arms and legs constantly in motion—her body in perfect sync with those of her teammates.

She moves deliberately and with high energy, strutting in place, hips rolling, legs kicking, while her arms alternate between Ls, diagonals, Ks, and daggers— wrists constantly shaking green pompoms. There’s even a little hairography thrown in for good measure, which is always a crowd pleaser.

But despite having on her best show smile, it’s feeling forced right now. Normally Quinn gets a rush from performing, but now she feels strangely self-conscious. Quinn knows she’s in incredible shape and that she’s an even better dancer than she was back in high school, but knowing that Rachel is in the audience watching is affecting her—making her emotionally off-balance. It’s hard to stay in the moment, but feeling Marissa and Sarah’s warm arms wrap behind her back as they get ready for their epic kick line helps center her.

 **RACHEL:** The player who joins them at their table is apparently a rookie, and Rachel really can’t be bothered to remember his name. Her tablemates seem happy enough to quietly chat with him the moment he sits down, but her eyes stay on Quinn and her fellow cheerleaders as they break their formation in the front of the stage and begin to move up onto it instead, drifting into the background as much as they can with their eye-catching uniforms and rustling pompoms.

It seems to take an unbearably long time for the emcee to allow all the players to get settled before finishing with a few cursory introductions and _thank yous_ , but then Rachel sees the cheerleaders begin to get into position on the stage and cranes her neck to get the best possible view, cursing her short stature and the tables in front of her that partially obscure her line of sight. Then the Flight Crew is being introduced, and the room fills with the infectious melody of “Shut Up and Dance,” and Rachel’s attention is captured by the women on stage.

She’d only managed to catch little glimpses of the Flight Crew at the football game two weeks ago and not enough to truly ascertain their level of talent as a dance squad. While their routine certainly isn’t Broadway caliber, they’re quite entertaining—though Rachel is mostly watching Quinn and only Quinn.

Every day, Rachel is surrounded by dozens of talented dancers who are trained in every conceivable style. Some of the choreography in her show still leaves her in awe, and she’s so grateful that she’s able to rely on her supportive cast to make her own admirable but not phenomenal dance skills look better than they actually are. She’s honest enough to admit (in the privacy of her own thoughts) that she’s somewhat lacking in the grace and fluidity of motion that comes so naturally to the trained dancers that she works with. The same cannot be said of Quinn Fabray. Rachel had somehow forgotten just how skilled a dancer she really is—and how enjoyable it is to watch Quinn lose herself to the music for just a little while.

And— _oh_! Those high kicks would put the Rockettes to shame.

Suddenly feeling parched, Rachel reaches for the glass of water in front of her even as her gaze refuses to leave the stage, watching every movement that Quinn makes. When the song comes to its end and the Flight Crew strikes their final pose, the room fills with applause (and one or two rather inappropriate whistles and catcalls), and Rachel frowns mildly, eyes darting around the room in search of the offenders as she claps along. Those women are not objects to be drooled over—though there’s certainly nothing wrong with a little respectful admiration, she silently assures herself.

The Flight Crew waves to the audience before they make their way off the stage, and Rachel perches on the very edge of her seat in tense anticipation. She has no idea if they’re staying or going, and she’s very aware that she may need to quickly excuse herself from the table in order to chase after Quinn. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, but she’d much rather Quinn just stay put and talk to her for once instead of always running away.

 **QUINN:** “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for your New York Jets Flight Crew.”

The audience applauds loudly, and Quinn smiles as the Flight Crew bows in unison. But as soon they’re off stage and out of sight, Quinn’s smile slips.

Marissa grabs her hand as the Flight Crew heads out of the ballroom and into a smaller room nearby where they had stashed their belongings. “You’re shaking,” she observes quietly, leading Quinn to a corner of the room where they can have a little privacy, although she doesn’t miss the concerned looks cast her way by the other girls. “What’s wrong?” Marissa asks, gazing at her imploringly.

Quinn shakes her head a little and lets out a steadying breath. Marissa’s one of the few people who knows about her situation (although not much about her past), and Quinn trusts her. “Rachel and I used to be friends, but we fell out of touch. Well, I cut her out of my life because…” she trails off, averting her gaze and feeling pricklings of irritation.

“I get it,” she assures Quinn, without judgment.

Quinn lets out another breath. “I never thought I’d see her again. And now she’s back, and she wants answers. I don’t know if I can give her them.”

“Then don’t. Quinn, if it’s too stressful, then don’t.”

She wishes it was that simple.

 **RACHEL:** So Quinn didn’t exactly _run_ away, but she did disappear from the ballroom along with the rest of the Flight Crew. Being unfamiliar with the venue, Rachel can’t be certain that there isn’t some back exit out of the building, and she fidgets in her chair for all of sixty seconds before, “I’m sorry. I need to excuse myself to the restroom,” she offers by way of an explanation to her tablemates before she’s scraping her chair back as quietly as possible and ducking away from the table.

She speed walks around the exterior of the ballroom, ignoring the curious gazes that follow her. She thinks the restrooms might actually be in the same general vicinity as the doorway that Quinn had disappeared into, but she’s not planning to use the facilities. She can’t shake the sinking sensation in the pit of stomach that if she doesn’t talk to Quinn today she might never get the chance again. Quinn will simply go back to ignoring her phone number and her private messages sent through tumblr (if that’s really her blog and Rachel is certain that it is), and any further attempts that Rachel might make to contact her really will amount to stalking.

It hurts to know that Quinn won’t be the one to initiate contact with her, and it feels like Rachel is losing her all over again.

She’s almost to the door that the Flight Crew had exited through when she’s stopped by a gentleman in a suit stepping into her path. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, quietly but firmly.

Rachel swallows. “Oh…I…ah…the restroom?” she asks lamely.

“Right over there,” he informs her helpfully, pointing to a hallway that she’d just passed.

Rachel purses her lips. “Oh, th-thank you,” she mutters with nod, glancing back at the hallway with a frown. She takes a step back, slowly turning while she keeps an eye on the other door. After a few steps, the gentleman seems to turn his own attention back to the room at large, and Rachel takes a deep breath before spinning around and making a valiant attempt to rush past him and through the doorway that she hopes will lead her to Quinn.

 **QUINN:** The door to the room opens, and Quinn’s gaze shifts in that direction, only to see the person entering the room is none other than Rachel Berry. Quinn’s not even surprised at this point. She knew Rachel wasn’t going to give up so easily.

Their eyes lock then, and it’s like drowning. Rachel is all she can see—her brown, doe eyes shining with hope, hurt, and confusion—and waves of guilt come crashing in. She hates this feeling—the way guilt can consume her and cripple her. It was hard enough dealing with it all those years ago—it was hell, actually. Seeing Rachel again is a glaring reminder of just how bad it was.

“Do you want me to tell her to get lost?” Marissa asks, casting a wary look in Rachel’s direction before checking back in with Quinn.

“No,” Quinn replies quietly, finally tearing her eyes away from Rachel to look at her friend. “I… I’ll talk to her.”

“You’re sure?”

Quinn chuckles sardonically. “Of course not, but…” She licks her lips and looks back toward Rachel, who is cautiously hovering near the doorway. “I hurt her,” she continues, feeling another stab of guilt. “I didn’t mean to, but I did. I owe her some kind of explanation.”

Marissa lightly squeezes her upper arm. “Okay. We’re here if you need us.”

“I know,” she replies, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Taking a steadying breath, Quinn then squares her shoulders and turns her attention fully on Rachel before walking toward her, intent on taking this conversation somewhere private. She’s done running. At least for now. But that doesn’t make this any easier—if anything, she’s feeling more anxious than she has in years.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s heart is racing with adrenaline as she successfully slips inside the room, quickly closing the door behind her, only to be confronted with a sea of green and white clad cheerleaders wearing various expressions of surprise, suspicion, and irritation at her unexpected presence. It’s more nerve-wracking than she’d imagined to have the entire Flight Crew staring her down, but she’s on a mission, so her eyes quickly scan over the unfamiliar faces in front of her until they zero in on Quinn.

Their gazes lock, and even from across the room, Rachel can tell that Quinn isn’t happy to see her. She feels that prickle of guilt again for interrupting—well, whatever it is that cheerleaders do when they’re not cheering—but it’s not nearly enough to make her leave without finally speaking with Quinn.

Rachel self-consciously clears her throat as she lingers in front of the door, plastering a smile on her face that she hopes appears more confident than it feels. “I apologize for intruding,” she offers to the room in general, “but I just wanted to say hello to…my friend, Quinn.”

Her former friend at any rate—the very one who is already marching in her direction with a clenched jaw and flaring nostrils. Rachel can’t quite decide if Quinn is annoyed, resigned, or on the verge of being ill, and she frowns as her guilt intensifies, moistening her lips as Quinn approaches her.

“I…I’m sorry,” Rachel stutters. “I just didn’t want you to vanish on me again.”

 **QUINN:** She swallows down the barbed retort that threatens to escape—that old defense mechanism still tries to rear its ugly head now and again. But what happened in the past and what’s happening now isn’t Rachel’s fault, she reminds herself. It’s not anyone’s fault, although that’s a little harder to believe when her emotions say otherwise, especially when Rachel’s looking at her like that.

Quinn sighs, equal parts anxious and resigned. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to say the least. “It’s fine,” she lies, but she hopes saying it might help make it true. She wishes she wasn’t so affected by Rachel’s sudden reappearance in her life. “I’m not really ready to have this conversation,” she admits softly, unable to keep the discomfort out of her voice. “I don’t think I ever will be though, so… what the hell, right?” she finishes with wry quirk of her lips.

She doesn’t wait for Rachel to respond, brushing past her and exiting through the doorway, knowing full well that Rachel will be right behind her. If she was smart, she’d go back to her table and forget all about this. She’s not going to want to know the truth. Then again, Quinn has no idea how to explain the full extent of the truth.

 **RACHEL:** It takes a moment after Quinn brushes past her for Rachel to make her own body move, and she quickly spins on her heel to, once again, chase after Quinn. As she hurries to catch up, her mind turns over Quinn’s words and the air of uneasiness that had colored them. She can’t understand why Quinn is so reluctant to talk to her. What could possibly have happened all those years ago that Quinn has been so determined to hide?

“Where are you going?” Rachel hisses as she scurries after Quinn, unsurprised when she doesn’t get an answer. Quinn only walks along the edge of the ballroom and turns into the next hallway before ducking into the ladies’ restroom with Rachel following right behind her.

There’s something almost poetic about the location, bringing up memories of past encounters, but it isn’t really the time for fond nostalgia. Perhaps someday soon, they might be able to sit down over coffee, talk about the _good old days_ , and share a laugh over their youthful indiscretions, but that can’t ever happen if she can’t get Quinn to stand still and talk to her—give them a chance to become the kind of friends that they should have been all along.

Quinn stops in front of the sinks and turns to face her, worrying her lower lip in an achingly familiar way. There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence where they only stare at one another, and Rachel shifts nervously under the weight of Quinn’s gaze before she crosses her arms in an effort to keep still.

“Will you please talk to me, Quinn? Tell me what happened to make you disappear from my life?” she pleads, dragging in an unsteady breath as she drops her eyes to the floor and finally voices one of the fears that she’s carried with her all these years. “Was it…did I do something to push you away?”

 **QUINN:** “No,” she rushes out. “No, it wasn’t anything you did.” She watches Rachel’s shoulders sag in relief, but the question still lingers—why did she disappear?

“When Finn died…” Rachel stiffens, and Quinn closes her eyes as another wave of guilt crashes in. But Rachel wanted answers, so she pushes on, opening her eyes and staring down at her right hand resting on the sink. “I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with anything. It’s like it… his death triggered something in me, something beyond my control—like my mind turned on me—and I spiraled into a major depression.”

She tightens her hand on the sink before pressing her lips together, somewhat terrified at having admitted that fact out loud. Quinn lets out another long breath before continuing. “And I felt so guilty, because what right did I have? But that just made things worse, and I kept spiraling down. I couldn’t face you or anyone else from Lima.”

But how does she even begin to explain the depth of that guilt? It wasn’t merely survivor’s guilt, which was devastating enough. She was in love with Rachel, but as long as Finn was in the picture, Rachel would never see anyone but him. Quinn wished so many times that he was out of the picture, and then… then that’s exactly what happened, only in the worst way possible.

 **RACHEL:** There’s a familiar ache at the mention of Finn’s name, but this time it’s accompanied by a wave of sympathy for Quinn, lingering confusion, and an unwelcome stab of anger. “You weren’t the only one grieving for him, Quinn,” she says before she can think better of it. Quinn’s pained eyes snap back to hers, and Rachel instantly regrets how harshly that had come out, especially after Quinn had just confessed something that was obviously very difficult for her to voice.

Even in the midst of her own devastation and the confusion over Quinn’s absence, Rachel had never imagined for a moment that Quinn hadn’t been deeply affected by Finn’s death. She’d loved him once, just as Rachel had.

“I…I’m not trying to devalue what you went through,” she quickly explains. “God,” she breathes, closing her eyes as she hugs herself tighter, overwhelmed by her own memories, “I…I couldn’t even bring myself to get out of bed for the longest time,” she admits brokenly. “I couldn’t speak without breaking down and crying for hours. I felt like my life was over. And all I could think was…maybe if I’d stayed in Lima…if we’d gotten married liked we’d planned…if…if I’d told him that I wanted to give us another try instead of thinking that we had time…maybe he’d still be alive,” she finishes on a stifled sob. It’s been such a long time since she’d let herself dwell on those painful thoughts.

She opens her eyes again, lifting a hand to brush away the tears slipping over her cheeks. “So, believe me, Quinn, I understand spiraling, and I understand that you felt like you needed to deal with Finn’s death in your own way, but you had _nothing_ to feel guilty about,” Rachel stresses.

“You had so many friends who would have been there for you…helped you if only you’d asked them.” The way they’d helped Rachel—the way they’d all helped each other heal. “We were a family, and we would have understood. What I can’t understand is why you never came home again. Why didn’t you ever just…just make one phone call to let me…us…know that you’re okay?“

 **QUINN:** She couldn’t deal with Rachel’s grief back then, not when she felt the way she did, and hearing Rachel recount just how devastated she was by Finn’s death isn’t much easier to take now. And seeing her cry makes it that much harder.

"Rachel, I… I couldn’t. Things weren’t okay for a really long time, and it… it wasn’t just Finn dying. It wasn’t just grief and feeling guilty that I survived my accident and he didn’t. That was the trigger.” She swallows thickly, remembering how she wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat, and was tormented by her thoughts and emotions. “Like I said, I spiraled.”

She still has so much shame about what happened, but she tries to remind herself that it wasn’t her fault. “I failed my finals because I didn’t go to them,” she admits, feeling a little embarrassed by that fact. Even when her life had been turned upside down in high school, she always managed to stay on the honor roll. But the episode of depression triggered by Finn’s death had been too much for her to handle. “My roommate at the time tried to get me to go talk to someone. I finally did, and he started me on an antidepressant. And that turned out to be a huge mistake.”

Quinn takes another deep breath before taking the plunge and putting the truth out there. “It took years for me to get a proper diagnosis, but it turns out I have Bipolar. And giving antidepressants to someone with Bipolar is usually a terrible idea. It certainly was in my case. They made me manic, and I just… it was bad, Rachel. Really bad. I thought I was invincible, and I almost killed myself because of it.”

 **RACHEL:** She gasps at the unexpected confession, pressing a hand over her mouth as she stares at a teary-eyed, trembling Quinn in silent anguish. Even the idea that Quinn could have died and no one would have ever known—no! She refuses to think about that. Quinn is standing in front of her, alive and well, and whatever had happened to her to tear her away from Rachel—from _everyone_ —suddenly isn’t nearly as important as having her here now.

“Oh, Quinn,” she whispers against her fingers, at a loss for what to say as she attempts to assimilate this new knowledge of Quinn into all of the memories and unanswered questions that she’s carried with her all these years. The urge to touch her—to hug her and never let go—is so strong, but Rachel doesn’t know if it would be welcome after all this time. She knows next to nothing about bipolar disorder, so she can’t begin to know what Quinn was actually going through all those years ago, but she wants to.

Shaking her head, she lets her hand fall away, swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat. “I…I didn’t know,” she chokes out, gazing at Quinn through apologetic eyes as she takes a reflexive step closer. “I’m _so_ sorry. I should have…someone should have been here for you.”

Quinn shakes her own head, glancing away uncomfortably, and Rachel can feel her withdrawing into herself again. “Would it be okay if hugged you now?” she asks, hating that she has to—that time and everything that Quinn has been through has robbed her of the chance to offer the comfort and support that they both so desperately need.

 **QUINN:** Pressing her lips together in an effort to keep her emotions somewhat reined in (and failing), Quinn looks back at Rachel, taking a moment to look at her. Her eyes, still so expressive—maybe even more so—shine with so much compassion it threatens to undo her. She nods then, giving Rachel the permission she’s seeking, and seconds later, she’s enveloped in a warm hug, only hesitating for a moment before wrapping her arms around Rachel and breathing her in.

Her senses are assaulted, causing the memories to fire, and all Quinn can do is close her eyes and bury her face in Rachel’s neck. The guilt is still there though, clawing at her gut. “I’m sorry,” she whispers before taking in a shaky breath, trying—and failing—to keep the tears from falling.

 **RACHEL:** Breathing in Quinn’s scent, clean and fresh with a hint of vanilla, Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and relishes the sensation of being this close to Quinn after so many years, even though she’s still struggling with the knowledge that Quinn had gone through such a difficult time without telling anyone. She can feel Quinn shaking in her arms and the heat of her teardrops as they fall against her skin.

“I forgive you,” Rachel murmurs, knowing that the words have to be said. Because Rachel had been angry at Quinn for so long, and regardless of what she’d been struggling with, the way she’d chosen to deal with it—disappearing the way she had—had hurt everyone. Quinn’s hands tighten on her back for a moment before she valiantly attempts to compose herself, sniffling as she pulls away from Rachel and brushes at her tears.

Letting her hands fall to her sides, Rachel watches Quinn struggle with her emotions, and her heart goes out to her. “Will you…can you tell me more about what happened to you?” she asks hesitantly. “I want to understand, Quinn. I couldn’t be here for you then but I’d like to be now, if…if you’ll let me.”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s forgiveness wasn’t something she knew she needed, but the moment she gets it, some of the guilt subsides. And Rachel’s assurances that she still wants to be in her life, despite it all, are like a soothing balm on her soul. But talking about the specifics of what happened during her worst depressive and manic episodes isn’t something she’s ready for.

“Maybe one day I can tell you more,” she says, sniffling a little and hoping that Rachel will be patient with her. “Honestly, telling you this much was really hard. I hope you underst—”

The door to the bathroom suddenly swings open, and Quinn flinches in surprise. Her eyes don’t catch the familiar white and green of a Jets Flight Crew uniform, so she’s quick to turn toward the sink and busy herself by running a paper towel under the faucet before attempting to fix her eye makeup that had become smudged by falling tears.

In the mirror, Quinn can see Rachel still gazing at her sympathetically, and it looks like she’s about to say something when the woman who came in recognizes Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** Despite her insatiable curiosity and the need to learn more about Quinn’s life now, Rachel does, in fact, recognize that the bathroom at a charity luncheon is perhaps not the best place for deep and meaningful conversations. Her younger self hadn’t fully grasped that, considering how many moments exactly like this she’d had with Quinn in the past.

As if to prove the point, they’re interrupted by the door flying open as someone in need of the facilities enters, allowing the faint sounds of conversation to trickle in from the ballroom, but Rachel’s attention remains on Quinn as she attempts to repair her makeup. She’s disappointed at the interruption, of course, but she has every intention of telling Quinn that she understands—that they can continue all of this at a later date—before she ensures that there will actually be a later date to look forward to. Unfortunately, she doesn’t quite get the chance.

“Oh, here you are, Ms. Berry. I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost. You missed the salad entirely.”

Rachel forces a smile as she turns to find Mrs. Cairns, and she hopes that the lingering evidence of her own tears isn’t noticeable to the woman. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” she apologizes. “I merely lost track of time while chatting with…this very talented member of the Jets Flight Crew who also happens to be a fan of mine.”

Her eyes dart to Quinn—well, Quinn’s reflection—who, despite her disheveled state, still manages to raise a singular eyebrow and send Rachel a look that clearly says, Are you serious?

But Mrs. Cairns doesn’t seem to notice the silent exchange, merely nodding her acceptance of Rachel’s explanation. “Well, don’t let me interrupt,” she says as she moves toward one of the stalls. “Nature calls, you know. Those cocktails go straight through me.”

The stall door closes with a quiet click, and Rachel stifles her laughter, turning back to Quinn with a far more genuine smile, and she’s happy to see a tiny grin teasing at the corner of Quinn’s lips as well. At least Mrs. Cairns has managed to lighten the somber mood a little bit.

Sighing, Rachel concedes that she can’t stay sequestered in here with Quinn indefinitely. “I guess I should be getting back to my table and let you get back to work.” She reaches out to curl her palm over Quinn’s arm in a gentle touch, gazing at her imploringly. “But before I do…will you give me your phone number? Or take mine and promise to call me?” she pleads softly, conscious of Mrs. Cairns taking care of her business just a few feet away from them. “I really want to see you again, Quinn.”

And she’d really rather not become a Jets Flight Crew groupie to do it.

 **QUINN:** Even after all this time, Rachel’s touch still makes Quinn’s skin tingle with pleasure, and that combined with the weight of her gaze and genuine desire to see her again stirs something in her she thought was long gone. She’s not really sure what to make of it, but she can’t give it too much consideration. This afternoon has already been emotionally heavy, and talking about her past with Rachel wasn’t something she had been prepared for. Her mind is still jumbled, and escaping back into work is probably the best thing right now.

“I have your number actually,” Quinn says, thinking about the business card tucked away inside her desk drawer. She turns her head to meet Rachel’s eyes then. “I promise I’ll use it.”

 **RACHEL:** So Sean actually had passed her phone number along to Quinn as promised. Rachel purses her lips, biting back the urge to make a sulky comment about being ignored or press Quinn for her own phone number. She understands a little better just why Quinn had been too uncomfortable to contact her, but she really hopes that’s changed now. She doesn’t want to pressure Quinn into something that she’s not emotionally ready to handle, and she feels terrible at the thought that she might have already done so. But she’s also not willing to let Quinn fade out of her life again.

Rachel is inclined to believe that Quinn will keep her promise—she always has in the past. Well, with the exception of that loose promise not to lose touch embodied by the train tickets that Rachel had been just as guilty of letting go unused. She’d had the best of intentions at the time, but her new life in New York had swept her off in other directions, and then it had been too late.

“I hope you’ll use it soon,” Rachel urges, give a light squeeze to Quinn’s arm before letting go. “We can talk about…anything you want.”

Quinn will have to be the one to make the next gesture to mend their broken friendship—whenever she’s ready. Rachel hopes that Quinn won’t make her wait very long.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s demeanor somewhat echoes an encounter they had under McKinley’s bleachers senior year of high school, and Quinn can’t stop the small, appreciative smile that tugs at her lips at Rachel giving her the time and space she needs—letting this be on her terms. There’s a lot she needs to process.

“I’ll try,” she replies, not wanting the pressure of a definitive time to process all this, but she’s grateful that when they do talk again, Rachel won’t be expecting more answers right away. “Maybe you can tell me more about your show.”

The toilet flushes then, and Quinn takes that as her cue. “I really need to get back to work now, and you should probably rejoin your table and eat the lunch you spent a fortune on.” She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh as it hits her that Rachel dropped hundreds of dollars just to talk to her. There’s something so very Rachel Berry about that. “I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed.”

 **RACHEL:** Once again, she’s not certain exactly what Quinn means by that, but she’s not wrong about the ridiculous price of her lunch. Rachel smiles sheepishly, already having resigned herself to the fact that attending this event just to see Quinn again could be considered slightly irrational, but, “It was worth it.” Quinn’s lips part in surprise, and Rachel licks her own nervously. “I mean, it is a very good cause,” she explains with a wave of her hand as her eyes catch on the movement of the stall door over Quinn’s shoulder.

Mrs. Cairns exits, smoothing a palm over her dress as she walks to the sink. “You must be a very big fan of Ms. Berry, dear,” she comments to Quinn with twinkling eyes as she washes her hands. “I can’t say that I blame you. If I were thirty years younger, and single, of course, I’d probably have gotten her phone number too.”

Quinn only gapes at the woman, speechless, though her cheeks turn an attractive shade of pink. Rachel can feel her own face heat, and she awkwardly clears her throat. “We really should be getting back to the table, Mrs. Cairns. I’ll walk with you,” she insists, inching towards the door.

“That would be lovely, dear,” Mrs. Cairns agrees, drying her hands and tossing away the used towel. The woman offers another smile to Quinn as she passes by her. “It was very nice to meet you. And good luck,” she adds with a wink before she heads for the door.

Rachel cringes, glancing back at Quinn in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I…I’ll make sure she doesn’t have the wrong idea about us,” she promises, placing a palm against the door to keep it from closing completely behind Mrs. Cairns. “We’ll talk soon,” she presses, hoping that the older woman hasn’t just scared Quinn out of calling her with her completely inappropriate and obviously inaccurate conclusion.

 **QUINN:** She watches the bathroom door close behind Rachel, leaving her alone for the first time all afternoon. Her face is still warm from—what was her name? Mrs. Cairns? Regardless, what she assumed was going on between her and Rachel still has her skin flush. Once upon a time, she wanted nothing more than a chance like that with Rachel.

Quinn mentally shakes her head. That was a long time ago, and she was a very different girl then. She and Rachel may have been friends once, but now… she never thought it possible, but there’s actually a chance for them to be friends again.

One step at a time though, she reminds herself. Her two most recent encounters with Rachel have been veritable emotional roller coasters, and that’s not really the greatest thing for her mental health. Although, by the end of their conversation today, Quinn felt a little steadier. Despite the initial unease Rachel’s sudden and unexpected reappearance in her life had caused, Rachel’s forgiveness and understanding left her feeling somewhat relieved.

Quinn almost can’t believe it considering how this afternoon started, but she’ll be using Rachel’s number. As soon as she’s ready that is, but she thinks it might be sooner rather than later.


	3. Text Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, November 18, 2019**  
>  Quinn finally makes good on her promise to use Rachel’s number.

**QUINN:** Hi, Rachel. It's Quinn.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn! Hi! Hello. You didn't lose my number.

 **RACHEL:** Not that I thought you would. Not on purpose anyway.

 **RACHEL:** I'm so glad to hear from you.

 **QUINN:** I didn't lose it. I promised you I'd use it. I just needed some more time.

 **QUINN:** How are you?

 **RACHEL:** Very happy that you finally used it. :)

 **RACHEL:** I'm doing well. Relaxing with some music and "Get Happy: The Life of Judy Garland" at the moment, as I don't have a show tonight.

 **RACHEL:** How are you?

 **QUINN:** Also relaxing and enjoying a hot mug of apple cider. We had a long rehearsal today, but it was fun.

 **QUINN:** It sounds like you're having a nice evening. What is your show schedule like? Is Monday your only day off?

 **RACHEL:** Yes, the show is only dark on Mondays, with the exception of certain holidays. For example, we'll be dark on Thanksgiving.

 **RACHEL:** Otherwise, we perform at 7:00 on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday evenings, 8:00 on Friday and Saturday evenings with a 2:00 matinee on Saturday and Sunday. Although I do have an understudy who occasionally performs the Sunday matinee.

 **RACHEL:** It's exhausting but so very rewarding.

 **RACHEL:** I'd love for you to come see the show, Quinn. My offer of free tickets still stands.

 **QUINN:** Sorry, I fell asleep before I got your last text last night.

 **QUINN:** As for the offer of tickets to your show, that's very generous of you. Are you sure? I could buy them... but I think I'd be waiting a long time. I hear the show is really popular.

 **QUINN:** But that's not surprising, considering you're in it.

 **RACHEL:** You've always been so certain I'd be successful. I've really missed that, Quinn.

 **RACHEL:** It was rather late last night, and it is very important to get the required amount of sleep. Especially for an athlete such as yourself.

 **RACHEL:** And I do have your phone number saved now. :)

 **RACHEL:** I'm very sure about the tickets. Everyone in the cast has an allotted number of reserved seats should we wish to use them for guests. Otherwise they're released for general sale or into the lottery before the performances.

 **RACHEL:** I just need a few days notice to get you an amazing seat.

 **RACHEL:** Or two, if you need them.

 **QUINN:** I'm sorry. I wish I had been able to tell you that more, but... well, you know why now.

 **QUINN:** Your success is one of the only things I've ever been absolutely sure about.

 **QUINN:** And as long as you're sure, and it's not too much trouble, could I have two tickets to your show?

 **RACHEL:** Two tickets?

 **RACHEL:** Okay then. Does this Saturday work for you? The matinee? Or would the evening performance better suit your plans?

 **RACHEL:** Unless you'd like a different date?

 **RACHEL:** Day. Of the week.

 **RACHEL:** Let me know your preference, and I'll have the tickets waiting for you at the box office will call window.

 **RACHEL:** It's the Imperial Theatre, in case you didn't know.

 **QUINN:** This Saturday is perfect, actually. The Jets have a road game on Sunday, so I have the entire weekend off. But I think the Saturday evening show would work best.

 **QUINN:** Thank you for the tickets. I'm looking forward to seeing you light up a stage again.

 **RACHEL:** Perfect. Just make sure to have your ID with you. They'll be waiting in your name.

 **RACHEL:** I'm hoping you'll stay for a bit after the show so you can tell me if I was brilliant or simply outstanding.

 **RACHEL:** You and your date, of course.

 **RACHEL:** I look forward to seeing you there, Quinn.

 **QUINN:** I should be able to stay for a bit afterward, but I already know you'll be brilliant. :)

 **QUINN:** I'll see you Saturday, Rachel. Thank you again for the tickets.

 **RACHEL:** You're very welcome, Quinn. I'll see you Saturday.


	4. A Brand New Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Saturday, November 23, 2019**  
>  Quinn attends an evening performance of Rachel’s show, _The Devil Wears Prada_ , compliments of Rachel.

**QUINN:** Quinn stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat as she exits the 42nd Street subway station and is hit with the cold, November air and the bright lights of Times Square. In less than a half-hour, she’ll be inside the Imperial Theatre, watching Rachel Berry perform as Andy in _The Devil Wears Prada_. Just a few weeks ago, she never would have imagined that she’d be doing this. But after another unplanned run-in with Rachel and all that came with it, Quinn felt some of the guilt that she had been carrying lift.

Still, she hadn’t been ready to reengage with Rachel right away. But after talking some things over with her doctor and with her roommate, Kaitlyn, who was gracious enough to accompany Quinn tonight, she felt settled enough to make good on her promise to use Rachel’s number—and, surprisingly, to take Rachel up on her offer for tickets to her show.

Quinn and Kaitlyn turn on to 45th Street, and Quinn’s eyes immediately seek out the theater hosting Rachel’s show. It soon comes into view, and seeing the bright lights of its awning in person is almost surreal. She’s about to see Rachel Berry on Broadway, and after the day she’s had so far… it’s something her 17-year-old self could only dream about. But it’s something her 25-year-old self isn’t sure how to feel about.

“You good?” Kaitlyn asks, cutting into her thoughts, and Quinn realizes she’d actually stopped walking.

She mentally shakes her head and looks toward her friend, cheeks pink from the cold and equally as bundled up as she is. “Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah, I’m good.”

 **RACHEL:** One of the perks of being a principal player in a hit Broadway musical is the ability to reserve house seats for her friends and family, so it was easy enough for Rachel to arrange two tickets for Quinn to be left at the will call window. Of course, she might have alluded to Quinn that the tickets were completely comped when, in actuality, Rachel does pay for them, but that isn’t something that Quinn needs to know. The tickets are a gift—one she’s happily given to some of her other friends, like Kurt and Blaine.

The matinee performance goes off without a hitch, of course, and Rachel can feel her excitement about tonight building steadily all throughout her dinner break. She can barely stop her leg from bouncing in her makeup chair.

“You’re more hyper than normal,” Stephanie comments wryly as she lounges on the futon in Rachel’s dressing room, already having had her own makeup touched up. “Did you dip into the vino over dinner again? Because you know what a disaster that was last time.”

Rachel narrows her eyes at her costar. “Alan bumped into me,” she reminds her testily. “It had nothing to do with the wine, and you know it.” Really, it was one little stumble that had her turning the wrong way during a dance number—barely noticeable and never repeated.

Stephanie laughs. “If you say so.” She pushes up from the futon, smoothing a palm over her first costume—a satiny dress that shows off her legs to their best advantage. “But seriously, Lima, what’s up? You’re never usually this antsy before a show.”

Rachel sighs, meeting Stephanie’s sympathetic gaze. Despite her occasional teasing, she really has become a wonderful friend. “Do you remember that friend I told you about? The one from high school that I ran into at the Jets game?”

Stephanie nods. “The hot, blonde cheerleader that blew you off?”

Rachel frowns. “She didn’t ‘blow me off.’ Not exactly,” she amends with a shrug. “We’ve spoken a few times since then, and…well, she’s coming to the show tonight.”

“Ah,” Stephanie breathes with a knowing grin. “I get it. You want to impress her.”

“No,” Rachel denies quickly, hating the way that Stephanie’s auburn eyebrows arch in an amused challenge. “Maybe,” she admits with a blush. “It’s just…she’s one of those people whose opinion has always mattered to me. I know it probably seems ridiculous, but I want tonight’s show to be perfect.”

Stephanie shakes her head. “It won’t be if you’re so wound up that you vibrate right off the stage,” she chastises lightly. “Maybe a glass of wine would actually be a good thing tonight.”

“You’re so helpful,” Rachel drawls, crossing her arms.

Stephanie laughs again, reaching out to give Rachel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just relax, Rachel. You’ll knock her socks off,” she assures as she moves toward the door, pausing in the frame to send a wink back at Rachel. “If her socks are what you’re aiming for.”

“Not funny,” Rachel calls after her as she disappears out the door in a trail of laughter, and her face heats. She’s certainly not aiming to knock off any article of Quinn’s clothing. She just wants to wow Quinn Fabray with her amazing performance. That’s all.

 **QUINN:** After stopping at will call to pick up the pair of tickets that are waiting in Quinn’s name just as promised, they escape from the cold and into the theater’s warm entryway. They get their tickets scanned at the door, and then make their way into the lobby, pausing for a moment to take in the 18th-century Adamesque details. Quinn may not be the biggest theater buff in the world, but there’s something about this space that makes her feel like she’s entered one of the crown jewels of Broadway.

“Oh, wow,” Kaitlyn murmurs, and Quinn turns her attention to her friend to see her looking at her ticket. Curious, Quinn does the same, and her jaw drops in surprise. Orchestra section, fourth row, center. “I’ve never had seats this good for a show before.”

“Me neither,” Quinn agrees, still somewhat stunned. “Considering this is my first Broadway show, this is going to spoil me for any others I go.”

“I’m sure Rachel will hook you up with great seats for all her future shows,” she counters as they head toward their section.

“And I’ll make sure to take you to all of them,” Quinn replies easily, belying the fluttering in her stomach that occurs at the thought of what the future entails. She needs to take baby steps in reestablishing her friendship with Rachel, and coming to the show tonight is a huge step in and of itself.

They show their tickets to an usher who then hands them each a playbill before escorting them to their seats. Quinn looks around in awe as they settle down on plush, red seats. The lobby is nothing compared to the theater itself—the recessed ceilings and walls covered in decorative floral and geometric motifs are stunning, and the space itself is enormous and yet still feels very intimate.

“I can’t believe these seats!” Kaitlyn exclaims, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. “Thank you again for taking me with you, even if I’m kind of acting as a buffer.”

Quinn smiles sheepishly. “I would have taken you regardless, you know. I know how much you want to see this show.”

“I know, but still.” She grows a little more serious then. “As much as I do want to see this show, I want you to know that I’m here for _you_ , so if for some reason you need to leave or whatever, that’s fine. I know some parts of your past are still something you’re struggling with.”

“I appreciate that, but… I think I’ll be okay tonight.”

Kaitlyn offers Quinn a warm smile and lightly squeezes her hand before turning her attention to her playbill. The theater continues to fill up with more and more people, and their excitement is palpable. Quinn feels her anticipation grow along with her fellow audience members as she gazes up at the large, red curtains. Her lips curve up of their own volition. She’s about to see Rachel Berry on a Broadway stage.

 **RACHEL:** She hasn’t been this nervous before a show since opening night. Despite Stephanie urging her to relax, Rachel hasn’t quite managed to completely calm herself down. Just knowing that Quinn will be in the audience tonight has Rachel determined to deliver her very best performance. She’s not certain why it’s so important to her—if she still feels the need to prove something to Quinn or to herself, or if she merely wants to show off her success to an old friend who’s been out of touch for so long. She refuses to let her thoughts linger on any potential ulterior motives.

In any case, Rachel spends the remaining time leading up to curtain running through her vocal warm-ups and obsessively checking her makeup in her vanity mirror to make sure her appearance is as flawless as her voice will undoubtedly be. Of course, her current costume isn’t exactly flattering, but Andy’s fashion sense at the start of the show is still better than some of the wardrobe choices that Rachel had made back in high school.

At the five minute call, Rachel makes her way out of her dressing room to linger backstage before the curtain rises. Her character appears at the end of the opening number, “A Million Girls,” and the stage direction will provide her with only a fleeting opportunity to survey the audience to see if Quinn has actually used the tickets that Rachel had made available for her. Regardless of whether she sees those seats occupied or empty, Rachel can’t let it affect her performance tonight. There are hundreds of people in the audience expecting to be entertained, and Rachel isn’t one to disappoint them.

Stephanie steps to her side as the overture begins to fill the theatre, gently bumping Rachel’s shoulder with her own. “You good, Lima?”

Rachel purses her lips, giving a single, determined nod. She can feel the stage calling out to her as the music builds, and a sense of calm overtakes her. This is her world, and performing is her passion. “I’m great.”

“Then let’s go impress your cheerleader,” Stephanie says before she moves forward to wait for her cue.

Rachel lets the teasing comment fall away as she slips into her character, and the curtain goes up.

 **QUINN:** The opening number is infectious, immediately pulling Quinn into the imaginary world where _Runway_ is the premier fashion magazine that a million girls would kill to work for. The fashion-lover in her immediately falls in love with the costumes, and being so close to the stage, she can actually make out the detail in the clothing the actors are wearing.

But Rachel isn’t among the cast performing this song, although it looks like practically the entire company is on stage, and Quinn finds herself growing anxious for when she will appear. She really should have looked at her playbill to see what musical numbers Andy is featured in.

But as the song reaches its climax, Rachel makes her first appearance, and Quinn sits up a little straighter in her seat, feeling her heart rate pick up ever so slightly.

 **RACHEL:** Right on cue, Rachel rushes onto the stage, frazzled and wide-eyed as Andy faces her first day at _Runway Magazine_. Her entrance is in the final refrain of the opening number, and she dodges and weaves through the dancers with her briefcase clutched in her hands on her way to Stephanie, who plays Emily and always wows the audience as a featured singer on this number. There’s a moment when Rachel gets spun around and has about ten seconds to face the audience, and tonight she uses that time to stare directly at the fourth row center, catching her breath when she sees the seats filled by Quinn and her—date? Or maybe not, since she’s sitting next to a woman.

Rachel can’t really pause to speculate very long, because the music ends and the audience erupts in applause, and Rachel has to turn and cross the rest of the way to Stephanie.

As soon as the applause dies down, she speaks her opening line. “Um. Hi. I have an appointment with,” she pauses, juggling her briefcase to lift the small card in her hand, “Emily Charlton.”

Stephanie lifts her eyebrows, looking horrified. “Andrea Sachs?”

“Yes,” Rachel responds, holding out her hand politely as she flashes a megawatt smile.

Stephanie looks disdainfully at her hand, refusing to take it. “Human Resources certainly has an odd sense of humor.”

There’s a small spattering of laughter at the line—Rachel knows it’s mostly due to Stephanie’s delivery. From there, Stephanie gets to shine with a fast-paced, comic delivery that explains Andy’s presence at the magazine, introduces Alan as Nigel, and also sets up the second musical number, “Hell in Heels,” which, of course, will also introduce Audra as Miranda Priestly. Rachel has a few lines in the song, but mostly, Andy has to look lost and confused as she watches Emily hurry to get the office prepared, dragging Andy along as she does so.

Rachel will have her time to shine later in the show with solos and duets, but for now, she gets to enjoy being swept up in the group numbers. Their cast really does have amazing chemistry—it’s one of the reasons the show had won the Tony this year—and Rachel is proud to be a part of it.

Quinn’s presence fades out of her mind for the most part as she fully commits herself to her character and delivering a brilliant performance.

 **QUINN:** She’s a little disappointed that Rachel isn’t featured more in the first handful of musical numbers, although her costars are pretty amazing, and the songs and the choreography are top notch. Quinn especially enjoys Emily and Nigel’s performances, and she finds herself genuinely laughing at some of their lines.

Still, there’s something about Rachel that keeps drawing Quinn’s attention, and she wonders how it will feel to finally witness her singing a solo. The National Anthem at an NFL game doesn’t count. This stage—this is Rachel in her element—and there’s nothing quite like it, Quinn realizes.

Of course, she’d seen Rachel in the musicals put on at McKinley, but there’s no denying that Rachel has grown leaps and bounds as an actress—she’s fully immersed in her role. When Quinn looks at that stage, she doesn’t see Rachel Berry, she sees Andy Sachs. And she’s a character that Quinn finds very endearing, even as she starts to lose herself as she dedicates herself to being Miranda’s assistant.

 **RACHEL:** As always, Audra kills her performance of “Fashion or Death.” Following her can be something of a daunting task, but Rachel has taken it as the best kind of challenge from the very beginning. Andy’s first solo is a slower-paced number called “Unbecoming Me,” and Rachel gets the opportunity to really show off her range, but it’s the emotion that she channels into the song that really makes it something special—at least in her own humble opinion.

The song is all about Andy feeling like she doesn’t fit in to the fashion world that she’s stumbled into and her frustration at being judged for her thrift-shop appearance instead of her abilities. Rachel can more than identify with the sentiment, and as she pours her heart into her performance, she briefly wonders if Quinn will recognize where Rachel draws her inspiration for this song in particular. Anyone who’d known Rachel in high school probably could, but Rachel uses those experiences now to gain the audience’s sympathy and get them rooting for Andy.

She normally tries to play to the entire theatre as she sings, but tonight, she can’t seem to stop her eyes from lingering in Quinn’s general direction, though the spotlights make it hard to really focus on the details of her face. Just feeling her presence brings all of those old memories to the forefront even more so than usual, and because of that, this performance feels more intense—and far more intimate—to Rachel.

When her final glory note fades, there’s a moment of heavy silence in the theatre before it fills with a thunderous round of applause, and Rachel suppresses the urge break character and grin at the reaction, instead focusing on the transition into the next scene. It’s always a good night when she gets that kind of response, but that really was her best performance to date, and she thinks she might have Quinn Fabray to thank for it.

 **QUINN:** When Rachel starts singing her first solo, Quinn momentarily forgets to breathe or blink. Those beautiful, brown eyes seem to fixate on Quinn, and it feels like Rachel is singing this song to her—and only her—and, oh, what she would have given once upon a time for this.

But she soon catches on to the lyrics being sung, and suddenly the line between actor and character begins to blur. The lyrics hit way too close to home and remind Quinn of a time in her life that she deeply regrets—how she tried time and again to cut Rachel down due to her own repression and cowardice.

The words Rachel sings combined with the emotional intensity directed at her is overwhelming. Tears spring to Quinn’s eyes, and she presses her lips together as the unpleasant memories wash over her. But as Rachel sings her final note, she smiles through her tears. Despite how horrid she and everyone else at McKinley were, Rachel never let it bring her down, and now she’s a bona-fide star singing her heart out under the bright lights of Broadway in front of 1500 people every night. And it’s a crowd that is giving Rachel a rousing applause.

“That was incredible,” Kaitlyn says, leaning into Quinn after giving Rachel a loud ovation.

“She was,” Quinn agrees, feeling a measure of pride despite her lingering guilt as she watches Rachel move into position for the next scene.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks, obviously noticing Quinn’s state.

“Kind of,” she replies, wiping at her eyes but never taking them off the stage. “But I don’t want to miss anything.”

Quinn knew to expect some sort of emotional turbulence this evening, and being prepared for it makes it easier to ride it out. She’s decided that reconnecting with Rachel is worth it.

 **RACHEL:** One of Rachel’s favorite numbers happens near the end of the first act—a duet between Nigel and Andy called “Make Me Over” that’s just plain fun. Rachel gets to play in the massive costume rack that’s wheeled on stage, and honestly, it reminds her of the makeover that Kurt had given her shortly after they’d moved to New York. It’s also one of the most challenging numbers in terms of Rachel’s dancing—the first part of it is just her and Alan and no one else to cover up any flubs that she might make. She also has to pull off five quick changes during the course of the song, and she always prays that her costumes cooperate.

Needless to say, she’s incredibly relieved when the number goes off without a hitch.

Soon enough, the first act is coming to a close with another duet, this time between Andy and Nate, who’s played by Scott Lovell. Since the focus of the show is mostly on the magazine and the antagonistic relationship between Andy and Miranda, Andy’s romantic story is a secondary plot that only pops up sparingly throughout the show and is primarily used to highlight how completely she loses herself before realizing what she’s become. Even so, “Slip Away” is a gorgeously heartbreaking duet about two people who, despite still loving one another, don’t really recognize each other anymore, and Scott’s voice complements hers perfectly.

It’s another performance that taps into Rachel’s past experiences, though it’s also the one that she’s trained herself to compartmentalize as much as possible, making it all about Andy. It had been incredibly difficult for her to get through it without breaking down during the initial workshop since it so starkly parallels her final breakup with Finn. It’s always been one of her more painful memories, colored by the knowledge that she’d lose him forever just a few, short months later, but it’s only at the end of the song that Rachel allows a tiny bit of herself to shine through in the tears that glisten on her cheeks—completely in character for Andy as Nate walks off the stage, signifying the end of their relationship.

The house lights fade, throwing the theatre and stage into total darkness, and a second of weighted silence is followed by a burst of applause as the curtain comes down. Rachel basks in the beautiful sound of it before she hurries off the stage.

Initially, she was a little wary about ending the first act on such a sad note, thinking it would have made more sense to end with an upbeat number like “Make Me Over,” but she’d soon realized that the song serves as the true turning point for Andy—the moment when she chooses her job over love. Or, more accurately, the moment that she chooses to change everything about herself for the sake of a job instead of holding firm to her convictions. It creates an extra sense of tension going into the second act.

Rachel brushes her fingertips over her cheeks, drying the lingering moisture as she heads for her dressing room with a satisfied smile on her lips. She needs to change her costume, rehydrate with a glass of warm water, and hopefully manage five minutes to rest before the curtain goes up on the second act.

 **QUINN:** The thunderous applause slowly dies down as the house lights go up, signaling the beginning of intermission. But Quinn is still feeling the effects of Rachel’s emotional duet, and so she takes a moment to sit and be in it for a few moments, even as the people around her start moving around.

She has always been somewhat in awe of Rachel’s talent, and while her Broadway stardom had long been an inevitability in Quinn’s mind, actually witnessing it in person is kind of blowing her mind.

“How are you holding up?” Kaitlyn asks, pulling Quinn from her thoughts.

“Okay,” Quinn replies with a small, reassuring smile, glad that she has so many people in her life that make sure to check in with her like this. Rachel was the only one who ever bothered before, but then she’d-

No. What happened wasn’t her fault, she reminds herself for the millionth time.

“Good,” Kaitlyn says, “Because I’m really loving the show so far, and I’d hate it if you weren’t enjoying it too. I didn’t think it was possible, but I think this cast is better than the movie’s.”

Quinn can’t argue with that. “Make sure you tell Rachel that after the show,” she replies, although she’s certain that Rachel would readily agree.

Kaitlyn beams. “As excited as I am to meet Rachel Berry, I’m really happy that you’re taking this step.”

“Me too,” she agrees. And she really is, even though she’s definitely a little nervous about it.

 **RACHEL:** “So…I got a pretty good look at those house seats. Your hot cheerleader is even hotter in person,” Stephanie comments from where she’s currently leaning against the frame of Rachel’s open dressing room door.

Rachel’s gaze jerks to her friend, even as she finishes tugging on the tailored jacket that completes the first of Andy’s chic, second act costumes. “First, I know you have your own dressing room. And second, how could you even recognize her?” she asks suspiciously.

Stephanie casually shrugs a shoulder. “I checked out her photo on that website after you mentioned she’d be here tonight. Did you know those cheerleaders have a calendar?”

“I might have seen something about that,” Rachel mutters, glancing away. She’s not about to tell Stephanie that she bought one or that Quinn is Ms. December.

“I totally get why she would make you nervous,” Stephanie says with a grin.

“Quinn doesn’t make me nervous,” Rachel denies quickly. “I told you…I just really want her to love the show.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes. “Well, of course she’s loving it. We’re awesome.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Rachel’s mouth. They are having a pretty spectacular night. She really hopes Quinn is enjoying herself.

“Is she sticking around after the show to give you a personal review?” Stephanie asks, pushing off the doorframe just as Jeff yells out that they have five minutes left until curtain.

“She said she would,” Rachel responds, moving toward the door as Stephanie backs out of it. They’re both featured in the first number of Act Two, “The Business Casual,” so they walk together back to the stage. “I’m not sure how long she can stay, but I’m hoping she might grab a coffee with me before she has to head back home,” she confesses, unconsciously twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “You know, to tell me in detail what she thinks of the show.”

“Right. The show,” Stephanie repeats with a chuckle, but she doesn’t make any other comments as they move into their positions. In just a few moments, the curtain will rise on Act Two, and then—then she’ll be seeing Quinn again.

 **QUINN:** The second act starts off on a more upbeat note than the previous act ended on, with a rousing duet between Andy and Emily that pulls Quinn right back into their fictional world. The fact that Rachel and the actress opposite her have off-the-charts chemistry only adds to the performance—the two play off each other effortlessly.

Even though Quinn knows the story from having read the book and seen the movie, watching it on stage makes it feel brand new. The experience is more visceral and intimate, and Rachel brings a special quality to Andy, making the character all her own. Even as Andy jettisons off to Paris with Miranda and seems to lose more and more of herself in her growing efforts to be perfect at her job (and Quinn can certainly relate to that), there’s always a spark of goodness in her. Despite what Andy and Miranda believe, she could never be as cutthroat as her boss.

 **RACHEL:** The second act goes off without a hitch, beginning with the enthusiastic applause that follows her duet with Stephanie and culminating with cheers when Andy finally quits her job and walks away from Miranda with the impassioned, “Not My Style.” There’s a brief, bittersweet scene between Andy and Nate that doesn’t really resolve anything but allows the audience to draw their own conclusions on whether or not they’ll ever reconnect romantically, but the sweet scene between Andy and Emily, affirming that their friendship will continue despite Andy’s new job and Emily continuing to work for Miranda, always brings the smile back to everyone’s faces.

The final, upbeat number, “A Brand New Line,” immediately follows that scene and features the entire cast, and then the music seamlessly transitions into a short reprise of “A Million Girls” to end the show. That’s when Rachel, as Andy, glances fondly around the stage, briefcase in hand, before walking off into her bright future. She’s already backstage when the number comes to its rousing end and the theatre goes dark.

Rachel hears the applause erupt, and she shuffles into position for the curtain call along with everyone else as their orchestra kicks back in with the instrumental medley and the lights on the stage come back up. As much as she relishes throwing herself into the actual performances, there’s nothing quite like the rush she feels at hearing the volume of the applause and cheers rise when she steps onstage to take her bow. Knowing that Quinn is out there tonight has Rachel practically bouncing in anticipation.

Stephanie moves to her side, along with Alan, bumping her shoulder lightly while they wait for the ensemble to take their bows and collect their accolades. “Great show, Lima. I bet your cheerleader is really earning that job title right about now.”

Rachel feels her face heat even more than it already was from the spotlights and spirited performance. “Please don’t call her that if I ever introduce you,” she begs. She can’t even imagine how Quinn might react to Stephanie’s harmless teasing.

“You mean when,” Stephanie corrects with a grin, her eyes straying back to the stage so she doesn’t miss her cue. “There’s no way I’m not meeting this woman that you’re so eager to impress.”

Rachel doesn’t have the chance to respond because Stephanie is grabbing Alan’s hand and running onto the stage. The audience goes crazy for them, as they always do, with whistles and cheers. And then it’s Rachel’s turn, and she jogs back onto the stage, silently praying that she doesn’t trip.

She’s greeted with the beautiful sight of a standing ovation and a deafening roar of applause. Those few stubborn holdouts who always seem to remain seated until the principal cast comes back to the stage finally decide to stand, but Rachel barely catches the movement in her peripheral vision. Tonight, her eyes are locked on the center of the fourth row, where Quinn is standing with a wide smile and clapping vigorously.

Rachel almost forgets to actually take her bow, but she manages a semi-graceful curtsy before she gives into the urge to send a tiny, grateful wave to Quinn. Then she dutifully steps aside, taking her place beside Stephanie as Audra comes on stage. It’s no surprise that she’s greeted with the most enthusiasm—there’s a reason she won the Tony this year. Rachel claps for her as well, just as she does after every performance, but tonight, her attention stays on Quinn.

It still feels surreal that she’s actually here—back in Rachel’s life and at her show, seeing her live her dream and cheering her on—but Rachel is so glad that she is. It’s like a puzzle piece that she didn’t even know was missing is finally back where it belongs, and Rachel is starting to see a whole, new picture take shape.

 **QUINN:** The standing ovation she gives barely scratches the surface of expressing just how impressed and proud Quinn is right now. This show, this cast, but especially Rachel, so surpassed Quinn’s expectations, and the ending was strangely cathartic. There was something familiar about it—hopeful, almost—and it leaves her with a sense of contentment.

But when Rachel comes out for her curtain call, it’s as if she’s looking right at Quinn—like she’s the only person whose applause matters despite the adulation raining down on her—and it makes her pulse quicken. And then Rachel does this little wave, and Quinn’s stomach flips, and…

Shit.

It’s been a long time, but Quinn’s never been very good at stopping those feelings, and she prays they don’t linger. She’s just feeling nostalgic, she tells herself. Rachel being in her life again is bound to bring up all kinds of thoughts and emotions, and it’s something Quinn is prepared to face.

 **RACHEL:** As soon as the curtain closes, Rachel rushes offstage and back to her dressing room, outpacing Stephanie who laughingly tells her to, “Slow down, Rachel. I don’t think she’s going anywhere.” But there’s still a part of Rachel that worries Quinn might just slip out with the crowd, having changed her mind about staying to say hello.

Their last two meetings had been rushed exchanges in less than ideal locations that had left Rachel feeling acutely unsatisfied. She really wants the chance to sit down with Quinn for more than a few stolen minutes, look into her eyes, and just…talk. About anything, even the weather.

In the privacy of her dressing room, Rachel goes straight for her phone and fires off a message to Quinn;

*Are you still in the theatre?*

She doesn’t get an immediate reply, and she tells herself that it’s just because Quinn had silenced her own phone during the show and hasn’t checked it yet. She’s not sure whether she should just send someone out to collect Quinn and escort her (and her plus one) back here or instruct her to wait at the stage door. Typically, Rachel enjoys meeting the fans that wait for her after the show and signing their playbills, but tonight, she selfishly wants to skip it and sneak out to talk with Quinn without being noticed.

Still waiting for an answer to her text, Rachel sets a new personal record for changing out of her costume and removing her stage makeup. If—no, when—Quinn answers her, she wants to be ready.

 **QUINN:** The crowd slowly starts to make their way out of the theater, but Quinn is content to wait a bit before doing the same. She and Kaitlyn stand and stretch, both still in awe of what they just saw. Quinn catches snippets of people’s conversations as they go—they’re buzzing with excitement from the show. One woman, who’s seen the show several times, said tonight was hands down the best performance she’s seen.

“I guess we picked a good night to come,” Kaitlyn says with a smile, picking up her coat and draping it over one arm. “What’s the plan? Are we going to the stage door?”

“I’m not sure, let me text her.” Quinn fishes out her phone from her purse, only to see she already has a text from Rachel. She can’t stop the small smile that tugs at her lips before typing out a quick response.

*Yes, I’m still in the theater. I plan on telling you this in person, but you were incredible!*

*Where should we meet you?*

 **RACHEL:** Having removed her heavy stage makeup, Rachel is applying a light layer of cover-up to smooth out her complexion and to disguise any blemishes until she can get home to complete her nightly skincare regime. When her phone buzzes from its position on her vanity table, she quickly reaches for it. Her heart rate picks up when she sees Quinn’s name, and it continues at its increased pace as she reads the message. She’s thrilled at the compliment, relieved to know Quinn still wants to meet her, and suddenly nervous because…Quinn still wants to meet her.

Rachel begins to type out instructions to wait in the lobby, but the thought of disappointing the fans that might be waiting outside for her has her deleting what she’s written with a sigh.

*Do you mind waiting for a bit outside the stage door? If it’s a problem, I can skip it tonight.*

If it’s a choice between signing autographs and seeing Quinn—well, she’s going to pick Quinn.

 **QUINN:** *Stage door is fine. See you soon!*

As soon as Quinn fires off the text, butterflies erupt in her stomach—just like they did earlier in the week when she finally got the nerve to use Rachel’s number. She isn’t sure what it is about the prospect of seeing Rachel again that makes her nervous. She thinks maybe it’s because there’s still so much uncertainty—she’s afraid they won’t be able to pick the pieces up. Or that Rachel will realize Quinn’s not worth her time.

“Stop thinking,” Kaitlyn says, nudging Quinn gently. She always seems to know when Quinn’s mind is going down a familiar path of self-loathing and distracting her from it, and not for the first time, she’s grateful to have a friend like her. “What’s the deal?”

“We’ll meet Rachel at the stage door,” Quinn confirms, putting her phone back into her purse. “I know you have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m guessing we’ll say a quick hi before heading back.” She’s not sure she’s relieved or disappointed to have a built-in reason to keep her meeting with Rachel somewhat brief, but she reminds herself that baby steps are best for now.

Quinn and Kaitlyn don their coats and bundle up with hats and scarves before heading out into the lobby and back into the cold, New York air.

 **RACHEL:** Taking one final look in the mirror to make sure she looks perfect—as perfect as she can look after a full day of performances—Rachel artfully arranges her red beret on top of her head before slipping on her matching coat. She grabs two fresh Sharpie markers from the drawer and stuffs them into her pocket as she heads out of her dressing room. She doesn’t bother with her gloves just yet, knowing that it’s easier to sign autographs without them.

She’s only partially surprised to find Stephanie practically running out of her own dressing room at the same time, hastily pulling on her coat. “Wait up, Rachel. I’ll walk out and face the lions with you.”

Stephanie’s face is freshly scrubbed free of makeup and her red hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and Rachel looks her over suspiciously. She typically takes a lot more time with her appearance before going out to meet the fans. “I think I’m beginning to regret telling you about Quinn,” Rachel comments wryly.

Stephanie affects a wounded expression, pressing a hand over her heart. “You wound me, Lima. Here I am trying to be a supportive friend, offering to be your wingwoman in case your cheerleader tries to make a run for it, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I don’t need a wingwoman,” Rachel argues as she starts toward the stage door with Stephanie at her side. “My interest in Quinn is strictly friendly.”

“Rachel,” Stephanie murmurs, placing a hand on Rachel’s biceps to momentarily stop their forward progress. “In all seriousness, are you sure that’s all this is? From what little you’ve told me about Quinn…well, I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re leaving out about your past with her. And let’s face it, we both know you’ve batted on both sides of the plate.”

Rachel blushes at the terminology. “But Quinn doesn’t know that. And she…well, I suppose I don’t really know what she is anymore,” Rachel realizes—brief alleged college experiment notwithstanding. Rachel’s own self-discovery had happened much later—long after she and Quinn had lost touch. “But I do know we haven’t spoken for more than ten minutes in six years, so I can’t let myself think about anything other than reestablishing our friendship right now.”

Stephanie stares at Rachel for a moment longer before she nods, letting go of Rachel’s arm. “Okay. Just know that I’ve got your back if you ever want to talk.”

“And I really do appreciate that, Steph,” Rachel says with a soft smile. “Now, let’s get out there and sign some autographs,” she urges, setting off for the door again. They have fans to greet before Rachel will be free to focus on Quinn.

 **QUINN:** By the time they make it near the stage door, there’s already a sizable crowd gathered and pressed up against the barricade, waiting for the cast to come out. Quinn knows that all these people aren’t here specifically to meet Rachel, but the fact that she has so many fans willing to stand in the cold just for the chance to get an autograph is impressive.

Eventually, the stage door swings open, revealing what Quinn presumes to be the stage door manager. “Before the cast comes out tonight, I’d like to remind you all that they will only be signing one item per person, and only things related to the show,” he announces to the gathered crowd. “Don’t push and stay behind the barricade.”

Short moments later, Rachel and one of her costars—Stephanie, Quinn thinks her name is—make their way outside and are greeted with excited cheers. She notices Rachel looking around, and when their eyes meet, the relief in Rachel’s smile is unmistakable. Quinn offers her a small wave, but makes no move to join the rambunctious crowd, and Kaitlyn is following her lead tonight.

Instead Quinn hangs back, content to watch Rachel interact with her adoring fans. She can’t help but smile at the way people light up over having their playbill signed and taking a selfie. It seems to be just as rewarding for Rachel, as she basks in their attention. Stardom definitely suits her.

 **RACHEL:** The chill of the air slaps against Rachel’s face as she steps out into the night and hears the cheers of the fans who’d lined up to meet them, but she barely notices the cold—too busy scanning the faces behind the barricade in search of one in particular. A sense of relief washes over her when she sees Quinn, and she smiles as Quinn lifts her hand and offers an inconspicuous wave. Satisfied that Quinn is here, Rachel turns her attention back to her fans, starting with the two young women closest to the door—both of them with pink cheeks, shy smiles, and the twenty dollar programs held carefully in their hands.

“Hello, did you enjoy the show?” Rachel asks politely as she approaches them with Stephanie just a step behind her.

One of them, a pretty brunette only nods bashfully, while the other, a blonde says, “It was so amazing. You were both so incredible.” She holds out her program with a hopeful smile. “We’ve been saving up for months to come see this show, and it was so worth it. May we please have your autograph, Ms. Berry? And Ms. Taylor too. Maybe…could you…like…sign right next to each other on the photograph of you two in ‘A Brand New Line?’”

Rachel chuckles, glancing at Stephanie with a smile as she carefully accepts the program and opens it to the page in question. “Of course we can,” she answers kindly. It’s not the first time they’ve been asked to sign that photograph. It is an amazingly good shot of them.

Beside her, Stephanie takes the brunette’s program and opens to the same page. “You both have excellent taste,” she says with a wink, causing the brunette to duck her head and blush while the blonde gently bumps her elbow into her friend’s arm with a wide grin.

Rachel signs her name beside her image with a flourish, adding her signature star at the end, and then she and Stephanie swap programs and repeat their signatures before handing the programs back to the girls.

“Th-thank you, Ms. Berry,” the brunette says quietly, pressing the program against her chest with both hands, one of which is clutching a cellphone. The girl doesn’t ask for a picture, but Rachel suspects that it’s more a matter of shyness than a lack of desire.

Rachel nods down at the phone. “Would you like a picture too?”

The brunette’s blush deepens. “If…if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Rachel promises.

“Allow me,” Stephanie eagerly offers, reaching for the phone.

Rachel shakes her head because Stephanie is such a ham, but she’s also the master of group selfies. The two girls huddle together, and Rachel squeezes in as close as she can in front of the barricade as Stephanie performs some impressive contortionism to capture all four of them in the shot.

When she hands the phone back to the brunette, both girls look at the photo and let out little squeals of delight. “Thank you so much! This is the best night ever!”

Rachel smiles at them before moving on to the next person, noticing that the blonde now has her arm wrapped around the brunette’s waist as they wait to see if more cast members will come out. The sight of them makes Rachel feel oddly wistful, but she shakes off the feeling as she signs a playbill for an older woman who’s seen the show three times and finally decided to try to meet some of the cast at the stage door.

Stephanie drifts over to Rachel’s other side, greeting a few people a bit farther down the line before she doubles back to pick up the people she’d skipped to give Rachel a little more room. It’s another kind of choreographed dance that they perform almost nightly to manage the crowd in the most efficient way. Stephanie is better at bouncing back and forth, while Rachel prefers to work in a more organized fashion.

Rachel tries to spend a few moments with each person, exchanging some brief words and posing for a few pictures. Normally, she absolutely loves the attention she receives from the fans who stay to meet her and takes as much time as she can with each of them, but she has to admit, tonight she’s walking a very thin line between politeness and rudely rushing her way through the autographs to get to Quinn that much faster.

It seems to take forever—tonight being a fairly large crowd despite the cold—and while they’re busy signing programs and playbills and a few t-shirts, Alan makes his way out and the crowd cheers again, shuffling a bit in an effort to meet him. But it’s when Audra finally comes outside that things suddenly move much more quickly because everyone wants Audra’s autograph, especially since she doesn’t always come out after every performance. Rachel has never been so grateful to be a second fiddle.

And then, finally, there are no more things to sign, and she’s standing at the end of the barricade in front of Quinn.

 **QUINN:** The closer and closer Rachel gets to her, the more nervous Quinn gets. She may be past the point of going into an aloof defensive mode around Rachel, but the uncertainty of things still has her feeling a little anxious. Having Kaitlyn next to her only helps so much. Although, it does help.

But once Rachel is standing in front of Quinn—glowing with happiness and gazing at her with wide, brown eyes—her nerves momentarily settle.

“You were amazing up there,” she gushes without thought. “I knew you would be, but wow.” Quinn wants to tell Rachel how proud she is of her, but she swallows that one back down and bites her lower lip. Just because Rachel sought her approval once upon time, it doesn’t mean she wants it now. “The word ‘brilliant’ seems kind of lacking, to be honest,” she says instead, and the smile that earns her is one Quinn once thought she’d never see again.

 **RACHEL:** Hearing Quinn compliment her, entirely unprovoked with sparkling hazel eyes and a soft smile dancing on her lips, fills Rachel’s heart with indescribable lightness—so much so that she feels like she could actually fly. Quinn’s approval still means so much to her, maybe because she knows that Quinn has never hesitated to tell her the absolute truth.

“Brilliant will do nicely,” Rachel assures her with a happy grin. “Thank you so much for coming, Quinn. It means so much to me that you did.”

Rachel watches Quinn’s teeth graze her lower lip for the second time in a matter of moments before her gaze briefly drifts to the attractive woman hovering so close to Quinn’s side, observing them with a thoughtful expression. Rachel’s grin begins to slip, but she wills an ever bigger smile to stay on put on her face as she meets Quinn’s eyes again. “I hope that you and…your friend…found the seats satisfactory,” she says, allowing her voice to hitch up in a mildly questioning tone. She bites back the urge to mention that she could have gotten Quinn even closer if she’d only needed one ticket. That would probably be rude.

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t miss the questioning note in Rachel’s voice when asking about Kaitlyn.

It wasn’t until rereading their earlier text exchange that Quinn realized Rachel was under the impression that she was bringing a date with her tonight, but now that she’s here with Kaitlyn, she’s kind of reluctant to clarify that fact, even though her feelings for Kaitlyn have never been anything but platonic and her roommate is very straight. But Rachel likely assumes Quinn is straight—although, she was never quite sure if Rachel was just willfully oblivious to how in love Quinn was with her or what.

“My friend and roommate,” Quinn clarifies after a beat, realizing there are better ways to come out without dragging Kaitlyn into it. “Kaitlyn Avolio, meet Rachel Berry.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,“ Kaitlyn says with a wide, genuine smile, extending her hand out over the barricade for Rachel to take. “Thank you so much for the tickets. They’re the best seats I’ve ever had at a Broadway show, and, like I told Quinn inside, I think you guys are better than the movie’s cast.”

Her roommate is used to interacting with celebrities, having once been a member of the Jets Flight Crew, so she knows how to keep her fangirling in check. But as much as she’s here to support Quinn, she is a Broadway fan in her own right, and Quinn knows she’s loving this opportunity to meet Rachel.

It makes this whole encounter that much easier for Quinn.

 **RACHEL:** A frisson of tension eases inside of Rachel as Quinn introduces the pretty brunette as her roommate without a hint of artifice, but Rachel doesn’t allow herself to dwell on her reaction too deeply at the moment. Instead, she reaches out to accept Kaitlyn’s offered hand with a genuine smile, suddenly very glad that she hadn’t made that comment about the single seat.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kaitlyn. Especially since you so obviously have a keen appreciation of talent when you see it,” she says in a playful tone. “We really do have an amazing cast. I’ve been incredibly lucky to work with them. If you’re at all interested in collecting autographs, I’d be happy to sign something for you.”

From the corner of her eye, Rachel notices that Stephanie has finished signing autographs and is currently inching her way just a little closer to them—undoubtedly unable to restrain herself from getting an even better look at Quinn. But to her credit, she doesn’t interrupt them, choosing to hover in the background like an overprotective big sister.

Rachel sighs. “And I’m sure my castmates would as well,” she reluctantly adds before turning her attention back to Quinn. Her stomach dips with a familiar twist of nerves, and she unconsciously runs the tip of her tongue across her lips. “And then maybe we could get a cup of coffee somewhere and warm up for a bit while you tell me in detail how brilliant I was.”

 **QUINN:** Coffee? When Quinn originally agreed to stick around for a bit, she thought it would be brief. But now that she’s finally here, especially with Rachel looking at her in such earnest (and since she waited quite awhile to actually see Rachel), Quinn’s kind of wanting to hang around longer. And warming up with a hot cup of coffee sounds amazing right now.

But that wasn’t part of the plan tonight, and she and Kaitlyn have to catch a train soon. Quinn sighs, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “Coffee sounds great, but, uh, it’s getting kind of late, and we need to head back home soon.”

Rachel’s hopeful smile drops, and Quinn immediately feels like a jerk.

“My boyfriend’s nephew is getting baptized tomorrow in Connecticut, so I need to be up pretty early,” Kaitlyn explains to Rachel, before turning her attention toward Quinn. “But if you want to stay in the city longer, Quinn, that’s fine. I can sleep in the car while Michael drives. I really don’t mind.”

And Quinn knows Kaitlyn really doesn’t mind, but she doesn’t want to be the reason her roommate is exhausted tomorrow. The train leaves every two hours this time of night, so if they miss the next one, they likely won’t get home until two in the morning or so. But Quinn has disappointed Rachel enough in her life, and she owes it to her to at least make the effort.

Screw it, she decides. Baby steps be damned.

“I don’t want to keep you out that late,” Quinn says with a slight shake of her head. “Why don’t we get you some autographs, and then you can head back to Jersey? I’ll stay for coffee and catch a later train.” Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Rachel visibly brighten, and she knows she made the right decision.

“Are you sure?” Kaitlyn asks, gazing at her searchingly for a moment. Quinn nods, and Kaitlyn gives her a small but proud smile.

 **RACHEL:** For a moment, Rachel had thought she’d have to watch Quinn walk away yet again, not knowing when they might be able to see each other next, but suddenly, she’s granted a reprieve, and she can’t wipe the smile from her face. She can’t wait to sit down with Quinn and find out more about her life now. She’s trying to focus on the ‘now’ and not the ‘then’—it goes against everything in her nature not to press for more information about Quinn’s condition and the years that she’d distanced herself from everyone, but Rachel knows that forcing the issue will only send Quinn’s walls flying up again.

“I’m sorry you won’t be able to join us,” Rachel tells Kaitlyn, though she’s really not all that sorry to have a chance to be alone with Quinn. The discovery that Kaitlyn has a boyfriend (and is therefore undoubtedly just a roommate) makes Rachel even more amenable to her presence. “But I can certainly do something about getting those autographs. In fact, let me introduce you to Stephanie,” she says, glancing over at her friend. That’s all it takes for Stephanie to erase the scant distance that she’s been maintaining until now.

“Took you long enough, Lima,” Stephanie tells her cheekily.

Rachel rolls her eyes, blushing slightly at the persistent nickname being uttered in front of Quinn, before she turns back to Quinn and Kaitlyn. “I’d like you to meet my friend and costar, Stephanie Taylor. Steph, this is my friend, Quinn.” Rachel can’t quite keep the soft giddiness from her voice or the smile from her lips at being able to say that again. “And her roommate, Kaitlyn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Stephanie greets them politely, reaching out to offer a hand to both of them over the barricade. Rachel watches Quinn smile politely as she takes Stephanie’s hand in a firm grip. “I don’t want to intrude,” Stephanie continues, releasing Quinn’s hand, “but I had to come say hello to Rachel’s guests before I head out. Before I go, I’ll be happy to sign those playbills for you, and I can run over to get Alan and Audra to sign too,” she offers with a grin. “We’ll call it a perk of knowing a cast member.”

Rachel is grateful to her friend for the suggestion. Thankfully, Stephanie doesn’t have to make good on her joking promise to help Rachel chase after Quinn, but she’ll certainly be helping them get Kaitlyn on her way back home so that Rachel can get Quinn somewhere quiet and warm.

They really do have so much to catch up on.

 **QUINN:** After Rachel signs both Quinn’s and Kaitlyn’s playbills, Stephanie does the same before taking them over to Audra and Alan to get their autographs as promised. While she does so, Rachel runs back inside the theater to grab her purse from her dressing room with a promise to return swiftly.

“You’re sure about this, Quinn?” Kaitlyn asks in the short moments they’re alone.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she replies, despite the lingering nervousness. “At least, as much as I can be, all things considered. But I think Rachel will leave the past in the past, at least for tonight.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Stephanie getting back their playbills from Audra (and Quinn smiles, glad that her roommate is getting so much out of this experience) before turning her gaze back toward Quinn. Stephanie looks like she’s about to head back over in their direction, so Quinn turns her head to meet her eyes.

There’s something about the way Stephanie looks at her that unsettles her, but she’s having trouble putting her finger on it. But before she can consider if further, Rachel exits the stage door and immediately looks toward Quinn as if to make sure she’s still there. It makes those butterflies in her stomach pick up their fluttering.

Rachel then turns to Stephanie and they share a brief, playful-looking exchange—and Quinn can’t tell if Rachel’s cheeks are pink from the cold or from blushing—before retrieving Quinn and Kaitlyn’s playbills and rejoining them at the end of the barricade. Autographed playbills safely tucked away, Quinn, Rachel, and Kaitlyn head east on 46th Street before bearing north on to Broadway. It’s just a few blocks to the subway that will take Kaitlyn back to Penn Station and to the cafe that Quinn is eager to warm up in.

 **RACHEL:** After grabbing her purse, Rachel says goodnight to Stephanie, who doesn’t miss the opportunity to teasingly remind her, “Those trains don’t run all night. Don’t keep Quinn out too late or you might have to take her home with you.”

The thought of taking Quinn back to her apartment makes Rachel blush. “If that were to happen, which it will not, it would be strictly an act of friendship,” she lightly chastises her friend.

Stephanie chuckles, handing over the signed playbills. “So you keep insisting. Seriously though, Rachel…have a nice time tonight.”

“Thank you, Steph.” She holds up the playbills. “For these as well.”

Rachel does her best to tramp down on her nervous energy as she makes her way over to Quinn and Kaitlyn and hands them back their playbills before they begin to walk to the coffee shop. On the way, Rachel is happy to accept a few more compliments from Kaitlyn on her performance, discovering that Quinn’s roommate is apparently a Broadway fan and was genuinely excited when Quinn invited her to the show. She also discovers that Kaitlyn and Quinn share an apartment together in Bloomfield, New Jersey. Quinn stays oddly quiet during the exchange, and Rachel’s nerves begin to flutter again.

She wonders if Quinn is regretting her decision to stay in the city longer, but soon enough, they’re bidding Kaitlyn goodnight, watching as she as she turns in the direction of the subway, and Rachel is left alone with Quinn on the sidewalk in front of Caffé Bene. With a shy smile, Rachel gestures towards the door. “Shall we?”

 **QUINN:** Even after all this time, the small, shy smile Rachel sends her way still tugs at Quinn’s heart and causes her mouth to curve into a smile of her own. She nods and then opens the door for Rachel, allowing her to escape from the cold first before following after her. She lets out a small sigh as the warmth of the cafe starts to seep into her. And then she looks around, and she’s very pleasantly surprised.

Everything about this space feels warm and inviting, from the wood ceilings, brick walls, and pendant lighting, to the built-in bookshelves filled with books. And there’s even a rolling library ladder, which Quinn thinks is a beautiful touch. This would be the perfect spot for a date, she thinks before she remembers who she’s here with, and how she once would have killed to go on a date with Rachel Berry.

But that was then, and this is now. And right now, she and Rachel are finally about to sit down and talk—really talk—for the first time in six years, in the hopes of reestablishing their friendship. She hopes she doesn’t screw this up.

Turning her attention back toward Rachel, she asks, “What are you having?”

 **RACHEL:** Rachel catches her lower lip with her teeth as Quinn opens the door for her, feeling increasingly nervous. She knows that she has a tendency to let her mouth run away with whatever thought pops into her head, and she’s afraid if she lets that happen tonight, she’ll undo the tentative progress they’ve made—and then she’ll never have the chance to ask Quinn any of the dozens of questions that have been gnawing at her mind for weeks.

Rachel has been to this cafe a few times in the past, and she’s always loved the odd mix of modern fixtures and rustic bookstore charm. Now that she’s standing here with Quinn, she realizes just how much the space has always reminded her of her friend—Quinn looks like she belongs here.

The cafe is busy but not overwhelmingly so, and Rachel is hopeful that they’ll be able to find a table somewhere—the cafe does have an upper level that’s typically far more quiet than the hectic street level.

“Actually, I think I’m in the mood for a hot chocolate now,” Rachel decides, rubbing her hands together to warm them. She never did put on her gloves after signing autographs. “Have you ever been here before?” she asks Quinn. “They have an amazing banana walnut honey bread if you’d like something to eat. It’s on me, so get whatever you’d like.”

 **QUINN:** She shakes her head as they get on the short line to place their order. “No, this is my first time here, but I’m kind of in love with it already,” she replies, lips curving up slightly as she pictures tucking herself in a corner and getting lost in a good book. “And I asked what you were having because I’m paying.” Rachel looks like she’s going to object, so Quinn presses forward before she can. “No arguing about it, either. It’s the least I can do after the incredible first-time Broadway experience I just had.”

“Next!” the barista calls out, and Quinn moves forward to place their order but keeps her attention on Rachel.

“So, a hot chocolate and banana walnut honey bread. Anything else you’d like, Rachel?”

 **RACHEL:** The determined glint in Quinn’s eyes stops Rachel from pressing to pay. “No, that’s more than enough. Thank you, Quinn,” she says with a grateful smile, happy enough to know that Quinn approves of the cafe. “And only order the bread if you’re going to share it with me.”

She’s not about to sit across from Quinn Fabray, shoveling dessert into her mouth—no matter how delicious—unless Quinn is doing the same. Apparently, her reawakened desire to impress Quinn isn’t merely confined to a stage.

Quinn’s tongue pokes out to moisten her lips, pulling Rachel’s gaze to her mouth for a split second before she forces it back to hazel eyes. Quinn blinks and draws in a silent breath before she turns to give their order to the barista.

 **QUINN:** As tempting as dessert is, Quinn knows she shouldn’t. Her medication makes it hard enough to keep weight off as it is, so she’s incredibly strict with her diet—especially during the football season. Her uniform is very unforgiving in some ways.

But she doesn’t want to deprive Rachel of something she obviously wants, and the thought of sharing dessert is… well, it’s nice. It’s something that she only does with people she’s close with, and that Rachel feels comfortable enough to do so with Quinn makes her feel hopeful about things.

Mind made up, Quinn places an order for a latte, a hot chocolate, and banana walnut honey bread. She pays the barista, and then she and Rachel move down to the edge of counter to wait for their drinks.

 **RACHEL:** It only takes a few moments for their order to be ready, and Quinn hands the hot chocolate to Rachel before picking up her latte and the banana walnut honey bread. Rachel snags a few extra napkins and two sets of plastic silverware before she glances around the café, noticing that a good number of the seats are already occupied and chairs rearranged by larger groups to leave only a single space available here and there, so she gestures to the stairs.

“Let’s head upstairs and see if we can find a quieter spot,” she suggests.

Quinn’s gaze moves in the direction that Rachel has pointed out, landing on the staircase, and when she nods her agreement, Rachel leads her up to the second level. Thankfully, there are a few open tables affording them a bit more privacy, and the neighboring conversations are occurring at a more reasonable volume than what could be found downstairs.

Using one of the spare napkins, Rachel proceeds to dust off the spattering of leftover crumbs from a small table by the window and sets her hot chocolate down, smiling at Quinn as she begins to unbutton her coat.

“This should do nicely, don’t you think?”

 **QUINN:** “Yeah, this is good,” she agrees with a small smile, setting down her own drink and the plate of bread before following Rachel’s lead and taking off her coat and scarf, hanging them on the back of her chair.

Quinn then takes a seat, and she wraps her hands around her cup in order to warm them up as she watches Rachel adjust her hair after taking off her red beret. She still looks like she’s glowing from her performance, Quinn thinks as Rachel finally settles down across from her.

But now that they’re alone, sitting face-to-face, Quinn feels those nerves rush back, and she isn’t quite sure what to say. She and Rachel never really did small talk—in fact, they tended to have a lot of raw, emotional moments and heartfelt conversations. Quinn can’t say she’s really up for either of those scenarios tonight though.

“So, um, do you have any Thanksgiving plans?” she asks, internally cringing the moment the question comes out of her mouth. For one, how lame is that? Secondly, she’s not keen on the possibility of that answer involving Lima or people from there. But it’s too late to take it back now.

 **RACHEL:** Now that Rachel finally has Quinn alone, she doesn’t quite know what to do with her. Every conversation starter that pops into her mind is silently vetoed for being too intrusive or too self-absorbed, so she’s actually incredibly relieved when Quinn asks her about her Thanksgiving plans. It’s a nice safe topic to get them started, though Rachel can’t resist a teeny, tiny bit of boasting.

“Well, my fellow cast members and I are scheduled to perform ‘A Brand New Line’ in Herald Square before the parade begins this year. I’m incredibly excited about it,” she reveals happily. She’s dreamed of performing during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade since she was four—though admittedly, she’d typically envisioned herself on top of some colorful float, singing an original, Grammy-winning song. Well, there’s still plenty of time for that. Rachel’s glorious career is only just beginning.

Quinn’s eyes seem to sparkle at the news, and her lips curl up into a proud smile. Rachel can’t seem to look away.

“Of course, then I’ll be heading to Brooklyn to have dinner with Kurt and Blaine,” Rachel adds, only to see Quinn’s smile slip at the mention of her former classmates. “Oh, they…um…they’re married now. For about two years,” she explains, knowing that Quinn’s memory of them—of everyone—is likely still frozen in their teenaged years.

“Blaine has had some minor roles off-Broadway, but he’s also been doing some teaching, and Kurt…well, he kind of fell into a career at a fashion magazine. He’s turned into a real, live Nigel, but then, I suppose he always was,” she finishes with a laugh that dies in her throat when she notices the increasingly distant expression on Quinn’s face.

“And…you probably don’t care to hear every detail of their lives together, do you?” Rachel realizes, nervously scraping her fingernail against the side of her cup. “But, well, they’re still my best friends,” she defends with a shrug.

 **QUINN:** “Of course,” she replies politely, before adding, “It’s nice that you’re all still friends.” She’s sure Rachel sees right through her, but she’s not going to be a bitch about it. It’s not that she didn’t like Kurt and Blaine, but in her mind, they’re all connected to a time of her life she’d rather forget.

God, what was she thinking anyway? It’s no surprise that Rachel is still friends with Kurt and Blaine and probably other people from Lima, so of course reconnecting with Rachel would mean reminders of the past would continue to come up. As much as Quinn tries to compartmentalize things and maintain a level of control, it never completely works.

“I’ll make sure to watch the parade though,” she continues after a beat, trying to get the conversation back to something easier for her to deal with and feeling some of her own tension fade. “It’ll be great to relive a bit of tonight’s epic performance.”

 **RACHEL:** As much as Rachel would like to focus solely on the epicness of her performance and all of the reasons that Quinn might find it so, Quinn’s tone in regard to Kurt and Blaine conveys that she, in fact, does not actually think it’s nice that they’ve all remained friends. Rachel purses her lips before she reaches for her cup of hot chocolate and takes a careful sip, allowing the liquid to burn away the words that want to tumble out of her mouth—a surly rebuke of how ‘nice’ it would have been if Quinn had bothered to stay in their lives.

She’s trying to make sense of what Quinn had told her the last time they’d seen one another, but while the reading she’s been doing about bipolar disorder has helped her better understand the whats of Quinn’s condition, she still can’t make sense of the whys. Why did Quinn feel that she’d needed to go through everything alone, and why does she still seem so determined to distance herself from everyone who’d once cared about her? Rachel doesn’t know if it’s a symptom of her condition or just a manifestation of her stubborn pride. The Quinn that Rachel remembers always had worked so hard to keep anyone from seeing any weaknesses, keeping her head held high and her defenses up even at her lowest point.

Rachel silently reminds herself of the top two pointers that she’s learned in her research—be patient and listen.

With a sigh, she returns her cup to the table, deciding to listen to what Quinn isn’t saying. She picks up the plastic silverware sets and begins to unwrap them so that she and Quinn can use the bread as a distraction if need be.

“I’m very glad you enjoyed the show, Quinn,” she responds politely. “And I’m also glad that I had the opportunity to meet your roommate. She seems nice. How long have the two of you been living together?” she asks, genuinely curious about Quinn’s life.

If small talk is what Quinn wants, then Rachel will be the queen of small talk.

For now.

 **QUINN:** Rachel might be a phenomenal actress, but she’s never been very good at hiding her emotions, and that still holds true. Quinn can see it in Rachel’s eyes and in the way her lips purse that she’s frustrated and a little bit angry.

Quinn’s heart sinks and her own anger flares up a bit in a reactionary defense. This was exactly what she was afraid of happening—that despite having the best intentions, Rachel will realize trying to reconnect with Quinn was a mistake.

But then Rachel seems to soften, and she meets Quinn in a conversational space she’s much more comfortable being in. She’s grateful for that, although her worry still lingers.

“She is,” Quinn agrees before pausing to take a sip of her latte and steady herself a bit, feeling her defenses slacken ever so slightly. “She’s probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. We’ve been living together for about a year now. Living alone isn’t really the best thing for me, and fortunately, Kaitlyn turned out to be the perfect roommate.” She holds back telling Rachel that she’s also been a godsend of a friend. Kaitlyn has been able to weather the storm of the few episodes Quinn has had—granted, they were nothing compared to what happened a few years back—and has been a great support for her. “We met at work, although she retired from the squad after last season so she could teach dance full-time.”

She takes another sip of her latte, thinking of what she can ask Rachel that’s safe. “How about you? Are you living in Manhattan now?”

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t miss the way Quinn skirts around the subject of living alone, and Rachel tramps down on her disappointment when Quinn doesn’t elaborate. But when she remembers what Quinn had told her about nearly killing herself back in college, she’s afraid that she might understand all too well.

Rachel can tell from the way that Quinn talks about Kaitlyn that she really cares about the other woman, and she can’t really control the tiny spark of jealousy that flares to life. It’s certainly not rational, but as she’s already determined, Rachel has never been rational when it comes to Quinn. Still, she’s glad to know that Quinn has someone in her life that she seems to trust, and she hopes that someday, Quinn might feel as though she can trust Rachel too.

Shaking off those thoughts, Rachel nods in response to Quinn’s question. “I actually moved into a one bedroom in Yorkville six months ago. Before that, I was living in Sunnyside with a…friend,” she says tactfully, thinking that would be the easiest way to describe Riley. “That’s in Queens,” she clarifies, not certain if Quinn is familiar with the many neighborhoods throughout the boroughs of New York City.

“With the show doing so well, I decided it was time to move a little closer to the theater district,” Rachel continues conversationally, and—well, she’d really needed to move out of the apartment that she’d been sharing with Riley, but she doesn’t tell Quinn that. It’s all worked out for the best. She and Riley are almost friends again. “And I really like the neighborhood,” she admits with a smile, picking up her fork and sinking it into the bread between them until she separates off a small piece for herself, complete with a slice of the fresh banana that tops it.

Grinning, Rachel lifts her fork, meeting Quinn’s gaze. “And you should really have a piece of this so I don’t have to eat alone.”

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t miss the way Rachel hesitates a little before saying the word “friend,” and she briefly wonders if Rachel’s vagueness is due to her former roommate being someone Quinn knows from McKinley or because it’s someone who was actually more than a friend. But the mention of Yorkville has Quinn mentally running through Manhattan neighborhoods, and when her mind finally places it in the Upper East Side, she realizes Rachel lives in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in New York City.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Rachel is doing so well for herself though. After all, she’s starring in a Tony Award-winning show.

Quinn intends on telling Rachel that, but then her attention is on the dessert sitting between them. Rachel’s (adorable) smile when she urges Quinn to have some of it is infectious.

“If you insist,” she says with a small grin of her own, picking up her fork and cutting off a piece of bread for herself. Her eyes close in pleasure the moment it hits her tongue. She chews slowly, savoring the taste before swallowing. “Mmm, that is delicious,” she says, opening her eyes and meeting Rachel’s gaze. “I can’t remember the last time I had sugar.”

 **RACHEL:** As delicious as the bread is, Rachel nearly chokes on her bite of it as she watches Quinn savor her own taste—eyes closed and face rapt with pleasure as she slowly slides the plastic fork out of her mouth. She wonders if Quinn has any clue just how sensual an image she presents. Rachel clears her throat as she reaches for her drink, taking a generous swallow to wash down the bread, grateful that Quinn’s eyes are currently closed.

When Quinn comments on how delicious the bread is and how long it’s been since she’s indulged, Rachel admits, “I don’t often indulge either. I’m typically very careful to observe a healthy diet. The stage can be quite physically demanding, you know. But every once in a while, I have to surrender to a craving, and I like to deceive myself that this particular dessert isn’t as unhealthy as is actually is. I mean, fruit,” she says, pointing her fork at the banana slices, “nuts…those are completely healthy food items,” she reasons with a grin.

Quinn laughs at that, shaking her head, and Rachel admires the sight, happy to have Quinn laughing with her instead of—well, at her. “But I imagine that you have similar concerns about your nutrition, being a professional cheerleader,” Rachel continues on. “The Flight Crew is very…um,” she hesitates, glancing down at the table top at the memory of Quinn in her uniform and hoping that her cheeks aren’t turning as pink as she fears they are, “energetic,” she finishes lamely. “That is, your routines are quite…spirited.” And she’s going to stop talking about the Flight Crew before she mentions how good Quinn looks as Ms. December in their calendar.

But…

“If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you end up joining the squad? Not that you aren’t wonderful,” she adds hurriedly, and she knows she’s blushing now, “but I read on your profile that you’re an editorial assistant. So…how does an editorial assistant end up cheering for the New York Jets?”

 **QUINN:** She raises a single, amused eyebrow at Rachel’s blushing and admitting that she looked at her Jets Flight Crew profile. Although, Quinn’s a little curious as to why Rachel’s so flustered (and why her stomach flutters when Rachel calls her wonderful), but she can’t give it too much thought right now. She needs to be careful how much she tells Rachel.

“I was actually a cheerleader before I became an editorial assistant,” Quinn clarifies. “I just got that job this year, in fact.” It’s a job that she really likes, and she hopes it turns into something more, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud for fear of jinxing it. “Last year my profile would have listed my occupation as a student. I’ve been taking classes part time at Montclair State.”

Quinn pauses and takes another sip of her latte. Rachel looks at her with curious interest and seems content to let Quinn continue talking.

“I moved to New Jersey in January of last year for a couple of reasons,” she continues, fidgeting slightly with the cardboard sleeve on her cup. “Getting a new start was a big one, and after getting settled in and enrolling in school, I was looking to do some kind of dance class. And that’s when I found out about auditions for the Jets Flight Crew. And, well, I liked the idea of getting to cheer again,” she admits with a small shrug. “It’s honestly been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.”

 **RACHEL:** “I’m glad that you have something that you’re so passionate about, Quinn. I imagine that becoming a member of the Flight Crew must be extremely competitive. It only proves how talented you are…but then I’ve always known that.”

Quinn catches her lower lip between her teeth, glancing away almost shyly, and Rachel wonders at it. The action is so achingly familiar that Rachel suddenly feels as though she’s been thrown back in time.

Despite many of the negative memories that Rachel still associates with Quinn’s cheerleading days, she clearly recalls how much Quinn had always seemed to enjoy the actual act of cheering on the field or at competitions—before her pregnancy of course.

The brief thought of Beth Corcoran flits through Rachel’s mind, but she knows better than to mention Quinn’s daughter tonight. It wouldn’t serve any real purpose anyway. It’s been years since Rachel has seen the little girl, though she occasionally speaks with Shelby on the phone. She’d even come to see Rachel’s show shortly after it had opened, leaving Beth with a sitter, and they’d actually managed to have a decent conversation that wasn’t wrought with bitterness and regret.

Actually, Shelby lives very close to—

No. Rachel willfully cuts off the thought and the curiosity that comes with it. She and Shelby might not have the best relationship, but she did once mention that Noah Puckerman occasionally visits with Beth—surely she would have also mentioned if she’d been in touch with Quinn as well.

Choosing to let that subject wait for another time, Rachel instead focuses on learning more about Quinn’s life now.

“You said you’ve been taking classes part time.” Even as she asks, Rachel can’t shake the memory of how happy Quinn had once been to announce that she’d gotten into Yale, and her heart breaks just a little to know that it hadn’t worked out the way Quinn had wanted it to. “Do you have very long to go before you earn your degree?”

 **QUINN:** Having Rachel compliment her like this—her unwavering belief that Quinn was better than she would ever give herself credit for—makes warmth blossom in her chest. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like, and she’s reminded of when Rachel was the only one who saw past her physical appearance and looked for the girl underneath. Quinn never really liked that girl, but Rachel seemed to think she was special. And for some reason, despite everything, Rachel still seems to believe that.

“Another two years, and then I’ll have my degree,” she confirms, trying to push away the regret of not having her degree from Yale by focusing on the fact that she’s still alive. She’s still here, and she’s finally living her life in a positive way. She prays it lasts.

 **RACHEL:** Two years. Had Quinn continued on at Yale, Rachel has no doubt that she would have already had her degree and possibly even a Masters by now. Quinn had mentioned moving to New Jersey early last year, which only makes Rachel more curious about where she’d been until then. So far, Quinn has avoided mentioning anything about that time in her life. Rachel has a feeling that asking about it might cause Quinn to shut down again, so she silently repeats her mantra of ‘patience’ and offers Quinn an encouraging smile.

“That’s wonderful, Quinn. Are you hoping to work in the publishing field longterm?” she asks, curious. “I remember that you were intending to study drama…before, and while I’m certain you would have been an amazing actress, to be honest, I always imagined that you pursue something more intellectual.”

Quinn had been at the top of their class, and there had almost never been a book very far from her hands.

Rachel frowns suddenly, realizing that she’d just unintentionally belittled her own career. “Not that acting should be considered a mindless pursuit,” she defends hurriedly. “It is my livelihood, after all.”

 **QUINN:** She offers Rachel an amused half smile. “Of course not,” she agrees. “Acting is actually pretty challenging, I think.”

Quinn presses her lips together in thought before saying, “I do like performing, but I think publishing is the field for me in the long run. The work is steadier, and I need to keep my stressors to a minimum,” she admits, rubbing her thumb against the side of her cup. “But even though it’s not acting, being part of the Flight Crew is an outlet where I can pursue my love of performing. So I’m enjoying it while I can.”

 **RACHEL:** “I can certainly understand that,” Rachel responds with a smile. She knows what it is to be driven to perform—the desire to hear the roar of applause and feel the rush of adoration from an audience. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t perform. I’m incredibly lucky to be able to do what I love.”

She reaches for her cup, lifting it to take another sip, before she runs the tip of her tongue across her lips, tasting the remnants of chocolate. “So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?” she asks, bringing the conversation back around. “After you watch me perform during the parade, of course,” she adds with a cheeky grin.

 **QUINN:** Her eyes fixate on Rachel’s mouth, momentarily mesmerized by the movement of her tongue against her lips. Quinn’s stomach flutters pleasantly at the sight before she registers her reaction. She may not be in love with Rachel any more, but she’ll probably always find her attractive, Quinn realizes, not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. She blinks then, forcing herself to focus on the words Rachel is saying.

Thanksgiving, right. Okay.

“I’m doing volunteer work at a soup kitchen in Newark with some of the other girls from the Flight Crew.” She wishes she could be spending Thanksgiving with her daughter, but, well, this is the next best thing. “We did it last year, and it’s a nice way to spend the holiday, you know?”

 **RACHEL:** Well, that certainly makes her own Thanksgiving plans seem incredibly shallow. But learning how Quinn intends to spend her holiday makes Rachel remember their senior year of high school—how Quinn had been amongst the first to volunteer to help at the homeless shelter on Christmas Eve. Quinn always was far kinder than anyone ever gave her credit for, probably because she went to such lengths to appear unaffected by everything.

“That’s really generous of you,” Rachel comments earnestly. “The Flight Crew seems very involved in giving back to the community. I’ve certainly developed a newfound respect for them…ah…you,” she corrects, a little embarrassed by just how much time she’d spent pouring over information about the squad after she’d discovered Quinn was a member of it.

“But I hope that you’re able to take some time for yourself as well.” She pauses, taking a breath as she fiddles with her cup. “To…to spend with friends and…and loved ones?”

And she really hadn’t meant to make that sound so much like a question, but her damnable curiosity has apparently gotten the best of her.

 **QUINN:** She can’t stop the smile that forms at the mention of loved ones. Her mind goes straight to one person—her perfect thing—and how lucky she is that she still gets to see her daughter. In fact, just this afternoon, she attended Beth’s last soccer game of the season. It’s her favorite sport, and fortunately, she seems to have inherited her parents’ athletic ability. It’s a joy watching her play though, mainly because Beth has so much fun doing it.

Quinn knows the main reason Shelby wants her in Beth’s life is for Beth’s benefit and not so much Quinn’s, but after everything that’s happened, Quinn is grateful, and she’s trying so hard not to mess this up.

But then she remembers where she is right now, and how she asked Shelby not to tell anyone from Lima anything about her. She’s not sure if Rachel and Shelby still talk or see each other, but if they don’t? Quinn remembers them not having the most stellar relationship, and tonight’s conversation has been going pretty well. She decides there’s no point in mentioning specifics.

“Even though my schedule is pretty busy,” she concedes, “I do make time for the important things.”

And it’s true, she realizes as she looks at Rachel. Coming tonight and staying for coffee was important. It’s the start of finally getting things right.

 **RACHEL:** The expression on Quinn’s face, from the soft smile to the almost dreamy, far-away look in her eyes, has Rachel wondering just who it is that she’s thinking about right now. She tries to keep her own smile in place in a way that doesn’t betray her frustration at Quinn’s stubborn evasiveness on the subject—or the tiny burn of envy aimed directly at whoever that mysterious person might be.

For every little nugget of information that she’s drawn out of Quinn, there are a dozen other questions that spring to her mind that remain woefully unanswered. And Barbra help her, it only makes Quinn that much more enticing to her! She’s like a puzzle that Rachel is determined to piece together. She can’t remember the last time she’d been so determined to learn everything she could about a person.

Well, actually she can. It was back in high school, and it was the very woman sitting across from her right now.

“Well, I hope that I’ll be one of those things,” Rachel murmurs with a half smile. Then she sucks in a short, little breath, dropping her gaze as she begins to play with her cup again. “I mean, our friendship, of course…now that we’ve reconnected.”

 **QUINN:** She looks at Rachel curiously for a moment, watching as she nervously fidgets with her cup. If not for Rachel’s reaction, Quinn would wonder if she misheard her. She doesn’t really know what to make of it, but she won’t let herself read into it, and she finds herself biting her lower lip to keep something stupid from spilling out of her mouth like, “You already are.”

Instead she tells Rachel, “It is important.” Quinn gazes at her intently then, and Rachel cautiously lifts her head. “And I’m sorry that I ever made you think otherwise. I just… I was in a bad place for a long time, and I didn’t want to drag anyone into it.” So much for avoiding heartfelt moments, Quinn thinks, realizing that just comes with the territory. “And even though things are better now, I… sometimes it gets bad.” Okay, that was more than she really wanted to say, but Rachel’s presence seems to bring it out of her somehow. “Just know that your friendship is important to me.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s words send a spiral of warmth seeping through Rachel’s system that’s far more effective than the hot chocolate has been. Knowing that Quinn values their friendship makes it easier for Rachel to stay her course. The fact that Quinn has just touched on the subject of those missing years—albeit very vaguely—proves that Rachel is on the right path with her.

“It’s important to me too,” Rachel says, leaning forward slightly, intent on relaying to Quinn how serious she is about all of this. “I realize that…that time in your life isn’t something that you’re eager to talk about, and I’m trying to respect that,” she promises quietly, “but I really do hope that you’ll eventually feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it.”

Quinn appears more than a little uncomfortable with Rachel’s directness, but Rachel assures her, once again, “When you’re ready. But please know that I meant what I said about wanting to be here for you now, Quinn. You won’t be dragging me into anything that I’m not willing to be a part of. It’s what…friends do for each other.”

It’s what Rachel wants to do for Quinn. It’s what she needs to do to have Quinn in her life again.

 **QUINN:** She’ll never be ready. And she doesn’t really see the point in talking about the past with Rachel—it’s hard enough getting through therapy sessions with her doctor when recounting past events—but she bites her tongue and tries to focus on Rachel’s willingness to be here now. She can’t bring herself to argue when Rachel is looking at her like this—earnestly and like Quinn is important to her.

“I hope I don’t give you a reason to regret this,” she says, hoping her eyes don’t look as wet as they feel. “But thank you for giving me another chance.”

 **RACHEL:** “You don’t need to thank me, Quinn,” Rachel dismisses with a slight shake of her head.

She’s never had a single moment of hesitation about giving Quinn another chance—and another and another. Rachel always has done so and always will. She’s not certain exactly what that says about her, but she’s always seen glimpses of the person hidden away beneath Quinn’s often difficult exterior, and she’s always wanted to get to know that person better. Nothing has changed now that she understands that there had been an actual, medical reason for so much of Quinn’s extreme behavior. If anything, it only makes Rachel more certain that she wants to know this Quinn even better.

“Do you not understand what you mean to me?” Rachel muses softly. “Those years when we lost touch,” she continues tactfully, “I was hurt and angry, but more than that…I had so many regrets about…about you. I kept thinking that I should have used those train tickets…or…or called you more often…shown more of an interest in your life at Yale. I shouldn’t have taken the friendship that I’d worked so hard to gain for granted.”

Quinn opens her mouth, looking as though she wants to object—or apologize again—but Rachel holds up a hand to stop her, shaking her head. “I know you were going through…what you were going through.” And here, Quinn snaps her mouth closed, swallowing visibly as she turns her face away from Rachel and quickly lifts a hand to brush beneath her eye.

Rachel’s heart goes out to her, and she sighs before she carries on trying to explain. “But, Quinn, the regrets that I carry with me are all about the things that I didn’t do and the time that I lost with the people that I lo-” she takes a breath, licking her lips while Quinn’s gaze slides back to her, “that I care about,” she finishes gently.

For a brief moment, Finn dances—or stumbles, as was his habit—through her mind again, but tonight, he’s sharing the space with Quinn.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” she says earnestly. “So no…nothing that you do will make me regret this. I’m not the same girl that you remember with my head completely in the clouds, Quinn. So please stop apologizing for things that you can’t change and give me a little credit for knowing what I’m doing here, okay?”

 **QUINN:** Listening to Rachel recount all her regrets has her stomach twisting unpleasantly. They don’t need to rehash this. She doesn’t want to think about all the mistakes they both made.

And she didn’t mean to imply that Rachel doesn’t know what she’s doing. It’s just that Quinn is, well, she’s always been riddled with self-doubt, and she’s lost so much in her life. She’s afraid of it happening again, but she believes Rachel is sincere. But she doesn’t have the wherewithal to verbalize all that right now, so instead she presses her lips together before breathing out a simple, “Okay.”

And that’s about all the emotional talk she can handle for tonight. She wipes under her eyes, brushing away the stray tears as she reaches for her latte with her free hand. Quinn takes a sip of her drink, once again trying to steady herself.

Quinn lets out another breath, and her eyes shift toward the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late,” she says, feeling a touch of disappointment that her time with Rachel will be coming to an end. From the looks of it, Rachel appears to be equally disappointed, and maybe a little worried. “The last train leaves Penn Station in twenty minutes,” Quinn explains, wishing they were closing tonight out on a more upbeat note, but then she guesses some of these things needed to be said.

 **RACHEL:** Disappointment settles over her, but a quick glance at the time reveals that Quinn is right. Rachel doesn’t know how the evening passed by so quickly, and Stephanie’s joking warning echoes in her mind. She doesn’t expect that she’ll be revealing to Steph just how close she’s come to actually having to take Quinn home with her.

Face heating a bit at the thought, Rachel smiles reassuringly at Quinn. “As much as I hate for this evening to end, I certainly don’t want you to miss your train. Do you think you’ll have enough time to get there?” Rachel asks, thinking that Quinn shouldn’t have a problem as long as the subway is running on schedule tonight. But, “I can flag you a cab if you’d prefer,” she offers, already moving to clean up their half-eaten bread and napkins so they can get Quinn on her way.

Even with the heavy turn the conversation had taken in the last few minutes, Rachel is pleased with the way things have gone tonight, and she’s already looking forward to spending more time with Quinn in the not too distant future.

 **QUINN:** “I think I’m going to take a cab, just to be safe,” she replies as she gets up from her seat, wrapping her scarf around her neck and then pulling on her coat. She waits for Rachel to do the same before they make their way back downstairs and outside.

Rachel is quick to get to the street corner in an attempt to hail a cab. She looks like a seasoned pro as she holds her arm out, Quinn thinks with a half smile, walking to catch up to Rachel. Although, Quinn supposes Rachel should considering New York City is her home and has been for quite some time. She looks like she belongs here.

Moments later, a yellow car pulls to a stop in front of Rachel, and she kindly opens the back door for Quinn. She wishes she didn’t have to go.

Biting her lower lip, Quinn turns her gaze to Rachel. “Thank you again for the tickets,” she says. “And I’m glad we were able to get coffee. I hope we can do something like this again,” she adds, making sure to look Rachel in the eyes so she knows that she means it.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel can’t repress her smile at hearing that Quinn sincerely wants to spend time with her again, and she practically bounces with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. Maybe we can meet for lunch sometime after Thanksgiving. Or…shopping. Or whatever you prefer,” Rachel suggests amiably.

Giving into her impulse, Rachel steps forward and envelops Quinn in an affectionate hug. Quinn stiffens for just a moment, but then, to Rachel’s relief and delight, she wraps her own arms around Rachel and returns the embrace.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight, Quinn,” she murmurs close to Quinn’s ear, feeling her silent nod in response.

Rachel gives Quinn one final squeeze before she loosens her grip and takes a reluctant step back. She’s met with a soft, half-smile, and Rachel finds herself returning it reflexively. “Have a safe trip home, and text me to let me know that you got there safely.”

After Quinn promises that she will, they exchange their goodnights, and Rachel waits as Quinn slides into the backseat of the cab before breathing out another, “Goodnight, Quinn,” and closing the car door.

With one final wave through the window, Rachel watches the cab pull away and disappear into the night—well, the early morning, to be more accurate. There’s a persistent smile etched onto her face as she sets about flagging down her own cab to take her back to Yorkville.


	5. Text Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Wednesday, December 18, 2019**  
>  Quinn wishes Rachel a happy birthday, and a dinner date is arranged.

**QUINN:** Happy birthday, Rachel. I hope your day is as wonderful as you are.

 **RACHEL:** It just got infinitely better. I can't believe you remembered. Thank you so much, Quinn.

 **QUINN:** You're welcome. :)

 **QUINN:** And maybe, if you're not busy on Monday, we could meet up in the city, and I can treat you to a birthday dinner.

 **RACHEL:** I'm not busy. Absolutely, yes. I would love to have dinner with you. :D

 **QUINN:** Okay, great! I finish with rehearsal around 4, so I should be able to catch a train that gets me to Penn Station around 6.

 **QUINN:** Are you still vegan?

 **RACHEL:** I'm afraid I slipped off the wagon back in college. But I am vegetarian.

 **RACHEL:** 6:00 sounds perfect. I can't wait.

 **QUINN:** Oh, okay. Well, I found two vegan places that look like they might be good - Blossom Vegan Restaurant in Chelsea and Candle Cafe in Lenox Hill, which is close to your apartment.

 **QUINN:** But if we go to Candle Cafe, I probably wouldn't get there until 6:30 or so.

 **QUINN:** We can go somewhere else if you want, too. Just let me know.

 **RACHEL:** Blossom sounds fabulous. And it's closer to Penn Station.

 **RACHEL:** Oh. I could even pick you up at the station, and we could walk there together.

 **QUINN:** Blossom it is then. And if you don't mind meeting me at Penn, why don't you meet me in front of the Dunkin Donuts in the NJ Transit waiting area?

 **RACHEL:** It's a date. :)

 **RACHEL:** See you then.

 **QUINN:** See you then, Rachel. :)


	6. A Berry Happy Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, December 23, 2019**  
>  Rachel and Quinn celebrate Rachel’s 25th birthday at a vegan restaurant in Chelsea, and some new discoveries are made.

**RACHEL:** She’s been looking forward to this evening for days—ever since Quinn had texted her and invited her to a belated birthday dinner. Their last outing together had gone fairly well, in Rachel’s humble opinion, ending with a hopeful suggestion that they meet again but leaving the time and activity open for Quinn to choose. True, it had taken a little longer than Rachel would have preferred for Quinn to actually choose, but she’s happy enough with the end result.

Rachel’s actual birthday last Wednesday had been enjoyable enough. Her fathers had called her early to wish her a happy birthday, and it had been wonderful to catch up with them. Then she’d met Kurt, Santana, and Brittany for brunch—Blaine had been busy at the school where he occasionally teaches music classes and unable to get the morning off.  

Rachel generally loves spending time with her oldest friends, but lately, their every interaction is increasingly nerve-wracking since she’s yet to tell them about Quinn. She wants to—lord, does she ever—but it’s been fairly obvious that Quinn isn’t ready to even talk about the past, let alone see any of their old friends, and Rachel knows that the moment she tells Kurt and especially Santana and Brittany about Quinn, they’ll demand answers that Rachel doesn’t completely have yet and a meeting that Quinn will probably never agree to. In fact, Santana would probably be brazen enough to crash a Flight Crew practice or something and ruin any chance Rachel has of easing Quinn back into old friendships—specifically hers.

Rachel knows that everyone is going to be so angry with her when she eventually does tell them that she’s been talking to Quinn again.

Thankfully, Rachel has Stephanie to talk to, though she’s only given her new friend the watered down version of her past with Quinn and revealed nothing about Quinn’s bipolar diagnosis. Of course, that’s probably why Steph doesn’t really understand the reason that Rachel hasn’t just told her other friends about Quinn, but she hasn’t pushed the issue. She has, however, continued to tease Rachel about her intentions—especially when Rachel had gushed to her about Quinn’s text and their pending dinner date.

But certainly not a ‘date’ date.

Rachel’s intentions are the same as they have been—to make Quinn Fabray her friend again and find out everything about her. The new dress that Rachel purchased as a birthday gift to herself and donned for dinner tonight has no ulterior purpose other than to increase her confidence and show Quinn how fashionable she is now.

Giving herself one last critical look in her full-length mirror, Rachel smooths her palms over the hot pink material of said new dress, admiring the way it fits her body like it was designed specifically for her. The cut is modest—sleeveless with not much cleavage on display and a skirt that falls to mid-calf—and the color looks fabulous with her skin tone. Her hair is loose and her curls brushed out, and her makeup is soft and natural. Overall, she thinks it’s an entirely appropriate birthday-dinner-with-a-friend dress.

With an approving nod, Rachel turns away from the mirror and steps to her hallway closet, pulling out her cream colored peacoat—the weather has turned chilly again, though the temperature is still fairly mild for the season. Putting on the coat, Rachel grabs her purse from the table and locks up her apartment before heading for the stairs. The taxi that she’d called earlier should already be waiting to take her to Penn Station where she’ll meet Quinn.

 **QUINN:** “It’s a date.”

Those words have been playing over and over in Quinn’s mind for the last five days, ever since Rachel had agreed to have dinner with her to celebrate Rachel’s 25th birthday. She knows Rachel didn’t mean anything by it, so she’s trying not to read into it. The last thing Quinn needs is for those old feelings for Rachel to come back. Things are tenuous enough as is. A variable like unrequited love would ruin everything. She can’t do that again.

Quinn plunges into darkness as the train she’s on heads into the tunnel that leads to the heart of New York City. In just a few minutes she’ll be arriving at Penn Station and meeting Rachel. Even though their last meeting went pretty well—despite things getting more emotional than Quinn wanted them to—she still finds herself growing a little nervous about seeing Rachel again.

The train soon slows to a stop, arriving at its destination, and Quinn lets out a slow breath as she gazes out the window at the underground platform. It’s just a friendly dinner, she reminds herself. No big deal.

 **RACHEL:** She arrives at Penn Station at 5:42, wanting to make sure she has enough time to make her way to their designated meeting place in the New Jersey Transit waiting area well before Quinn’s train arrives. The terminal is crowded, especially so at this time of the evening, and Rachel weaves her way through the businessmen and women hurrying to their trains after a busy workday and the dazed and confused tourists attempting to get their bearings.

She easily locates the Dunkin Donuts, busy with patrons grabbing coffees for their commutes or quick, unhealthy dinners on the go, and she finds a spot that’s relatively out of the foot traffic where she can keep an eye out for Quinn. She frowns slightly as she cranes her neck to see around some of the taller people hovering around, silently cursing her short stature for not the first time in her life. The toe of her beige heel begins to nervously tap out an uneven rhythm against the floor.

Maybe she should have brought a sign with Quinn’s name on it to hold over her head—like they do in those movies. Or maybe a colorful banner of some sort, or a flag to wave so that Quinn doesn’t miss her.

Smiling mildly at her own whimsy, she realizes that she could just text Quinn—let her know what she’s wearing and her exact location. She begins to fumble in her purse for her phone, intending to do just that, when she catches sight of a familiar blonde head, and her gaze zeroes in on Quinn walking among the crowd, her own gaze darting around, presumably in search of Rachel.

And then their eyes meet and—yeah, wow, the butterflies suddenly taking flight in her stomach are certainly not appropriate for a not-date date.

“It’s just a friendly dinner,” Rachel determinedly whispers under her breath before she smiles brilliantly and lifts her hand to wave.

No big deal.

 **QUINN:** The moment their eyes lock and Rachel smiles and waves, Quinn’s stomach flutters, and she silently curses herself. Despite being in a crowded train station, Rachel Berry and her dark, brown eyes are all she’s aware of. And, God help her, Rachel somehow looks even more beautiful than she did the last time Quinn saw her.

Quinn unconsciously licks her lips before curving them up into a soft smile of her own, her feet carrying her over to where Rachel is waiting.

“Hi, Rachel,” she says, doing her best to appear more collected than she feels. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She bites her lower lip and rocks back on her heels, unsure if she should hug Rachel or not.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn looks amazing—well, she always looks amazing, of course. Her black, double-breasted coat is tied at her trim waist, the barest hint of equally black material peaking out from beneath the bottom edge at Quinn’s knees. Rachel’s eyes briefly drop down to the toned calves on display, accentuated by black heels, as Quinn walks over to her.

The soft smile on her lips as she greets Rachel makes those damnable butterflies do a little jig, and it only intensifies when Quinn’s lower lip is tugged between her teeth, but the uncertainty in her expression and her posture—when it finally registers to Rachel—manages to calm the little buggers down significantly.

“Not long at all,” Rachel assures her with a shake of her head before she closes the scant distance between them to give Quinn a friendly hug in greeting. Because friends hug each other. “It’s so good to see you, Quinn,” she murmurs, letting her eyes fall closed in contentment for the brief moments that Quinn can’t observe her expression. “I’m glad you suggested this.”

 **QUINN:** Quinn just kind of gets lost for a moment when Rachel hugs her, closing her eyes and breathing Rachel in as she wraps her own arms around her friend. Few people have ever felt this right in her arms, and despite her nerves, Quinn settles ever so slightly when Rachel murmurs alongside her ear.

“It’s good to see you too,” Quinn replies softly before pulling back and letting her gaze drift to Rachel’s face once more. Her happiness and good mood is almost infectious, and Quinn wonders if it’s because of her or if it’s just Rachel’s general disposition nowadays. She quickly squashes down the first possibility. “I’m glad you were able to make it. Shall we?” she asks, gesturing toward the stairs that will take them up to street level.

 **RACHEL:** Feeling Quinn hug her back reinvigorates those butterflies, but Rachel does her best to ignore them. She silently reminds herself that strengthening her friendship with Quinn is the priority right now. Slipping out of her embrace, Rachel is relieved to see that Quinn appears a little more relaxed now. She doesn’t like to think that Quinn might feel uncomfortable around her for any reason.

When Quinn tells her that she’s glad she could make it, Rachel laughs lightly, because, “I’ll always make time for you.” Even as she says it, she realizes how true it is, and she nervously runs her tongue across her lips. “We’re friends,” she repeats—it’s going to be her mantra.

“And I’m famished. So let’s go,” she agrees with a nod, turning for the stairs.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s declaration that she’ll always make time for Quinn fill her with warmth, and little warning bells go off inside her mind. She stares after Rachel for a moment as she starts to move toward the steps before mentally shaking her head and following after. She once again reminds herself not to read into things. It’s a painful road to go down.

The cold air that whips against her face is enough to get her to focus on why she’s really here. She’s here to be the friend she should have been for the last six years.

 **RACHEL:** Stepping outside into the evening air, Rachel turns toward 31st Street with Quinn at her side. She glances over at her companion, noticing the quiet contemplation on her face behind the little puffs of condensed air that escape with every breath. The restaurant is on 9th Avenue about ten blocks away, and the walk will probably take them at least fifteen minutes.

With the sun having set, the chilly air is growing even colder, and she notices Quinn stuff her hands into her pockets and appear to burrow further into her coat.

“Do you want to grab a taxi?” she asks in sudden concern. “I don’t mind the walk, but it is a little chilly tonight. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. After all, this is your birthday present to me,“ she reminds Quinn with a playful grin, “and I won’t enjoy it nearly as much if your shivering the whole time.”

 **QUINN:** “No, that’s okay,” Quinn replies, and Rachel’s concern warms her to the point that she momentarily forgets how chilly it is. “I don’t mind the cold,” she adds before crossing 8th Avenue.

And really, she doesn’t mind. Besides, the little bit of extra exercise will do her good. But then she wonders if maybe Rachel’s question is more for herself than Quinn’s benefit. “Unless you want one?” she asks, pausing her steps on the other side of the street to look at Rachel, hazel eyes searching dark brown.

R **ACHEL:** Momentarily lost in warm, hazel eyes, Rachel finds herself silently grinning at Quinn before she thinks to shake her head. “I’m good. I’ll enjoy the exercise,” she admits as they begin to walk again. “And the company,” she adds, glancing over to Quinn to see her rapidly pinkening cheeks.

It’s probably just the cold.

An oddly persistent urge to tuck her hand inside Quinn’s bent elbow washes over her, and she has to shove her own hands into her coat pockets to keep from acting on it.

“So how was your rehearsal today?” she asks conversationally. “You mentioned that you had one until four,” she recalls, wondering how exactly that fits into Quinn’s schedule with both a job and college courses. “Do you have those often during football season?”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s adorable smile and sweet words have Quinn blushing, and, God, she wishes Rachel didn’t make it so hard (and so easy).

But she’s grateful for something to talk about so she can attempt to ignore Rachel’s comment about enjoying her company.

“Rehearsal was good,” Quinn replies before licking her lips and turning her gaze straight ahead to the crosswalk sign. “Although at this point in the season, it’s pretty straightforward since we have all our routines down.

“We have rehearsals in the afternoons on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays for Sunday games,” she explains. “Monday night games, we’ll rehearse on Sunday, and Thursday night games are a short week. But we’re always prepared,” she assures Rachel, not wanting her to think they skimp on their preparation for any games. “The other days I’m in the office, and my classes are in the evenings.”

 **RACHEL:** The information that Quinn is offering helps Rachel piece together a better picture of her day-to-day life. As impressed as she is by the work ethic of the Flight Crew in general and Quinn specifically, Rachel is more impressed that Quinn somehow manages to juggle all of her responsibilities and still find the time to be here with her tonight—not to mention having come to see her show a few weeks ago. She’s so grateful for it, but—

“You aren’t skipping a class tonight are you?” Rachel questions with a frown when she fully realizes what Quinn just shared about her classes. “I mean, I’m thrilled to be spending the evening with you, Quinn, but I’d hate to be the cause of your delinquency.”  

Though she keeps her tone light and teasing, she really doesn’t want to become a distraction from Quinn’s goals—even though that selfish little part of her that’s never quite gone away is secretly thrilled at the idea that Quinn would play hooky just to spend some time with her.

 **QUINN:** “No,” she confirms, her lips curving up into a rueful smile as her heels click against the hard pavement beneath her. “My days of delinquency are far behind me,” she assures, thinking of her brief time as a skank in high school. “My one and only final of the semester was last Tuesday, so don’t worry about me playing hooky.”

She likes this—the easy banter that flows between her and Rachel. She doesn’t need to think about the words that slip past her lips. She can just be.

And that’s… stop, she tells herself.

It doesn’t matter how nice it feels.

Rachel’s just a friend. A new (old) friend at that.

And even if she wasn’t, Quinn knows trying for anything more would be a mistake. Besides the fact that Rachel is (and has always been) a siren (and an incredibly straight one at that), Quinn is too much of a mess to be a good partner for anyone.

A short, frustrated breath passes through her lips, before things come back into focus.

“What’s your show schedule like during the holidays?” she asks, wanting to get the topic of conversation off of her, but also genuinely curious. “Is Broadway still running on Christmas?”

 **RACHEL:** “Yes and no,” Rachel answers with a wry smile. “New Year’s Eve is dark for every show, and I’m sure you can understand why. Times Square is a mad house that night.”

Rachel had done the requisite New Year’s “Rockin’” Eve with the masses when she’d first moved to the city—when the experience was still new and exciting—but she has no desire to be packed into the rowdy crowd like an icy sardine ever again. Standing on a stage to perform in front of them would be an entirely different story, of course, but she hasn’t been invited to do that yet. Someday, though.

“But the holiday schedule varies from show to show,” she continues with a shrug. “A few  are even performing matinees tomorrow for Christmas Eve. Ours is dark today and tomorrow, but we have an eight o’clock performance on Christmas night. Then we make up our missed show this week with an additional two o’clock matinee on Thursday, and the evening performance that night is at eight. Next week, we’re doing a performance on Monday night and another at eight o’clock on New Year’s Day.”

She glances over at Quinn as they make their way down 9th Avenue, finding interested hazel eyes on her as she recites her schedule, and she offers a crooked smile. “Most shows still manage to get in all eight performances, so my holidays are business as usual for the most part, although my fathers are due to arrive tomorrow morning.” Her smile grows a little wider at the thought of having her parents in town for a few days. “They’re visiting until the weekend. Today is actually the first day of Hanukkah,” she reveals, figuring that Quinn isn’t aware of the Jewish calendar. “And I get to spend it with you.”

 **QUINN:** Her head spins a little as she takes in Rachel’s modified holiday schedule. She actually did know today was the first day of Hanukkah, since Puck is in town to see Beth for the holiday, so Quinn is making sure to steer clear until he leaves to go back to Lima to see his family.

But Quinn isn’t about to tell Rachel that. And yet withholding that detail makes her feel a little funny—maybe even a touch guilty—but she doesn’t want to make things awkward or unpleasant by bringing up Shelby, especially when Rachel seems so excited to be spending Hanukkah with her fathers.

And with Quinn. A fact that makes her feel lighter than it has any right to.

“Happy Hanukkah,” she says, unable to stop from smiling. “I hope you don’t mind combining it with your birthday dinner.”

 **RACHEL:** “Are you kidding?” Rachel responds laughingly. “It’s like an extra, little gift that I didn’t even know I wanted until you offered it to me.”

And it’s true. Rachel hadn’t even expected Quinn to remember when her birthday is, let alone invite her to dinner. That it’s happening during Hanukkah is icing on the cake—a chance to start her holidays off on a high note and, hopefully, set the tone for the year to come.

“I want to thank you again for inviting me out tonight, Quinn,” she breathes, stealing glances at Quinn and her enchanting smile from beneath her lashes. “Otherwise, I probably would have been running around my apartment like a crazy person, re-cleaning everything that I’ve already cleaned in preparation for my fathers’ visit. Spending time with my friend is so much better.”

Because we’re friends, she silently repeats her mantra as the striped awning for Blossom comes into view ahead of them.

 **QUINN:** “You’re welcome,” she replies, blushing a little and thankful that cold is probably masking it. Why does Rachel have to be so sweet? And why does it have to affect Quinn so much?

She saves those contemplations for later though, because they’re finally at their destination. Without thinking, Quinn opens the door for Rachel. “After you,” she breathes, gesturing with her free hand for Rachel to go inside.

Rachel smiles shyly at her, and Quinn tries desperately to stop the butterflies that threaten to take flight.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn holds open the door for Rachel, and those stubborn little butterflies decide to remind her of their presence. She smiles shyly before catching her lower lip with her teeth. “Thank you,” she murmurs softly as she passes by Quinn to enter the restaurant. Quinn follows closely behind her, giving her name to the hostess that greets them.

The restaurant is housed inside a converted townhouse, and the interior is neat and understated, with hardwood floors, dark wooden tables, and a few intricate floral patterns surrounding the light sconces on the wall. The dining area is nearly filled with patrons sharing meals and conversations over the background music that softly plays from the speakers.

The hostess picks up two menus, bidding them to follow her, “Right this way,” as she leads them up the narrow stairway to the second floor.

The upstairs dining room is simple and elegant, with an ornate mirror at the top of the stairs and a few abstract paintings on the walls. The hostess leads them to a small table for two by the window and sets their menus down, informing them that, “Your server will be with you soon. Enjoy.”

Rachel thanks the woman as she steps behind the empty chair nearest to the window, hearing Quinn politely echo her sentiment before the hostess walks away.

Left alone, Quinn offers Rachel an odd (nervous?) smile as she reaches for the belt on her coat and begins to untie it. Rachel mirrors the action, placing her purse on the table top before she moves to unbutton her own coat, but her fingers still on the last button when Quinn’s coat falls open. Rachel watches Quinn shrug it off her shoulders, revealing what should be a very modest little black dress, cinched at the waist with a shiny, black belt—but on Quinn, it’s nothing but incredibly sexy.

Rachel swallows around her suddenly dry throat, forcing what she hopes is a friendly (and only friendly) smile. “That’s a really nice dress,” she murmurs in appreciation.

That’s a friendly enough thing to say, right?

 **QUINN:** “Thanks,” she replies softly, glad that Rachel likes it. Not that she picked this dress out for that reason or anything. No. It’s just that she takes great care with her appearance, and it’s always nice when it’s appreciated.

Although, there’s something about the way Rachel is looking at her—a kind of awe—that makes Quinn wonder if there’s something more to it. Stop it, she tells herself. That was the exact kind of thinking that she tormented herself with in high school, and that’s one of those things best left in the past.

And, apparently, Rachel’s wardrobe is another thing that’s been left in the past, because the moment Rachel finishes taking off her coat and revealing what she’s wearing beneath it—a hot pink, form-fitting, knee-length dress with a scoop neck, showing off the barest hint of cleavage—it really hits Quinn just how much Rachel has grown up.

“That dress looks amazing on you,” she says before she can think to hold it in, willing herself not to stare too long at Rachel’s chest, although letting her eyes roam over Rachel’s body isn’t exactly helping either. A more accurate assessment would have been ‘you look amazing in that dress,’ because while the dress is very flattering, Rachel is what makes it looks so good.

Fortunately, their server chooses that moment to stop by their table, offering Quinn a legitimate excuse to momentarily divert her attention and get her head on straight.

 **RACHEL:** Blushing from the compliment—and preening with pleasure that Quinn Fabray approves of her new dress—Rachel doesn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated to have their server appear at the table so quickly. She’s barely had a chance to settle comfortably in her chair, let alone properly analyze the exact intonation of Quinn’s voice in relation to the expression on her face in order to determine if ‘that dress looks amazing on you’ means that it’s an amazing dress that just happens to be on Rachel’s body and Quinn is surprised that her taste has improved so much or if Quinn thinks that Rachel looks amazing in general and the dress is merely a nice addition to the total package. And Rachel really should be focusing on what the server is saying, because she’s almost certain that whatever way Quinn meant the compliment still wouldn’t translate into this being anything more than an innocent birthday/Hanukkah dinner between old friends.

Which, of course, is all that Rachel intends it to be. There’s still so much lost time to make up for.

And really, impressing Quinn with her more sophisticated style is what Rachel had intended in buying this dress.

Honestly.

It was.

Still, Rachel’s eyes keep drifting over to Quinn while their server, who’d introduced himself as Daniel or Manuel or possibly Nathaniel—really, Rachel had only caught the ‘el’ with her focus mostly on Quinn—busily fills their water glasses. He helpfully relays the soup of the day (butternut squash), their featured wine selection (a kosher chardonnay), and asks if he can interest them in any drinks or appetizers (such as their seasonal butternut squash gnocchi) while they look over the menu.

Licking her lips, Rachel manages to tear her gaze away from Quinn long enough to tell him, “I’ll have a glass of the chardonnay,” because she thinks that she might need it to lull those damned butterflies into an alcohol induced nap.

The server currently known as ‘El’ politely smiles and nods before turning to Quinn and asking, “Would you like anything, miss?”

 **QUINN:** She considers for a moment indulging and ordering a glass of wine for herself as well, but Quinn decides to err on the side of better judgment. She and alcohol have had a rocky relationship over the years, and even though she’s usually okay with having a glass of wine with friends, tonight’s not one of those nights.

“I’ll just have a sparkling water, please,” she tells the server before turning her attention back toward Rachel, who is gazing at her thoughtfully, and for a brief moment, Quinn almost forgets what she was going to ask her. “Do you want any appetizers, Rachel?” she asks, mentally shaking her head.

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t expect Quinn to drink just because she happens to be indulging, but she can’t help wondering if there’s a reason for it beyond the lack of desire for a glass of wine. Rachel’s research on bipolar disorder, though certainly not exhaustive, has touched on the potential that alcohol has to trigger depressive episodes. Rachel wants to ask if that’s been a problem for Quinn, but she bites back the curiosity for now, saving it for a more appropriate time and place.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Rachel refuses politely. “Unless you want one? I could be persuaded to share if you have your heart set on something,” she offers Quinn with a soft smile, thinking of the dessert that they’d shared on their coffee date—that wasn’t a date either, of course.

 **QUINN:** Biting her lower lip, Quinn thinks it over. “Well, that gnocchi does sound pretty good. And since you’re willing to share it…” she says, offering Rachel a soft smile of her own before addressing their server. “We’ll start with the butternut squash gnocchi.”

“It’s an excellent choice,” Samuel agrees with a friendly smile. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Quinn watches him go for a moment before shifting her gaze across the table once more. Rachel really does look beautiful tonight. Quinn doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone with more expressive eyes than Rachel. It would be so easy to get lost in them.

“So…” Quinn starts, racking her brain for a conversational topic that will keep her from doing just that. “How does it feel to be twenty-five?”

 **RACHEL:** A light laugh slips past Rachel’s lips. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel much different than being twenty-four.”

Once upon another lifetime, Rachel had imagined this would be such a monumental age for her. The thought brings a brief moment of melancholy, but it’s here and gone in the space of a breath, and the smile stays on her face as she gazes at Quinn.

“Obviously, I don’t yet have the numerous Tony Awards that I’d once expected to have won by now, but then, nothing has really gone according to the original plan,” she admits, silently musing that her original plan had been more than a little naive—after all, it had included remaining a virgin until she was twenty-five, and lord knows that had flown out the window before she’d turned seventeen.

Quinn’s lips turn down into a thoughtful frown, but Rachel is quick to reassure her. “While there have certainly been some disappointments and detours along the way, there have also been so many wonderful opportunities and realizations that I might never have had if my life had followed the plan.”

And a few of those opportunities and realizations involve the woman sitting across from her now.

 **QUINN:** “Like what?” she asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Even though she had legitimate reasons for cutting Rachel out of her life for a time, there’s a part of Quinn that regrets not having been able to be a part of her life to already know these things. But she wasn’t capable of that because she had spiraled so far, and that’s the guilt that’s hardest to stop. Just because she has a name for its cause—bipolar disorder—it doesn’t always make it easy to accept the things that happened as a result.

But Rachel is a person she wants to have in her life now that she’s better (or at least stable, for now), so Quinn can only try to learn all these things about her now.

 **RACHEL:** Like what?

It’s such an innocuous question with answers that could potentially reveal things that might be a little too personal to share at this stage of their friendship. Taking a moment to contemplate exactly how to answer Quinn, Rachel moistens her lips as she glances down at the table and begins to meticulously unwrap the silverware from the linen napkin.

Obviously, her plan would have seen her married to Finn Hudson right now, possibly on the verge of starting a family—her shelf lined with Tonys, of course, and perhaps a couple of Grammys and Emmys for good measure, even though in reality the roles and accolades hadn’t merely fallen into her lap upon her arrival in the city. And while she still misses Finn dearly, she can admit now that her goal of going back to Lima to become his wife after having had a taste of success in New York probably wouldn’t have made either one of them happy in the long run. That wouldn’t have stopped her from trying though, and who knows where she might be right now if she hadn’t lost him so unexpectedly and been forced to reexamine her life—learning exactly what Rachel Berry is really made of.  

But telling Quinn all of that will probably send them down a path of painful memories, and that’s the last thing that Rachel wants tonight.

“Oh, well…my show, for one thing,” Rachel offers, deciding to pick a safer topic for now, and she lifts her gaze to find curious hazel eyes on her.

“You probably don’t know this, but I was up for the role of Fanny Brice in the revival of Funny Girl several years ago. I obviously didn’t get the part,” she grumbles, hearing the lilt of bitterness in her voice that still lingers, even after all these years. Quinn’s eyebrow quirks up in surprise—or possibly amusement. “They felt I was too young and inexperienced to really sell the role,” Rachel explains with a huff.

“I had auditioned shortly before…well, before we lost touch,” she says delicately, avoiding the mention of Finn’s death. Quinn breaks eye contact with her anyway, glancing away as she begins to worry her lower lip between her teeth, and Rachel sighs softly, because apparently this wasn’t the safest topic after all.

“In retrospect, if I’d been given that role at that time in my life, I’m not sure that I would have truly appreciated how difficult having a career on Broadway can be. I’ve been on so many auditions since moving to New York and been told by so many casting directors that they love my voice but I’m just not what they’re looking for. Every role that I earned, no matter how small, has felt like a victory.”

Rachel smiles ruefully. “I guess I finally learned a little humility from swaying in the background more than a few times. But paying my dues and learning the business from the bottom up, so to speak, is ultimately what led me to playing Andy. And it makes me so much more appreciative of what I have now.”

 **QUINN:** Quinn is surprised to learn about the failed audition for Funny Girl—Rachel was born to play the role of Fanny Brice—but the mention of the time around Finn’s death sends a stab of guilt and pain into Quinn. It’s still something she’s working to come to terms with (in fits and starts) in therapy. Sometimes, everything surrounding that time feels like a potential trigger.

So she’s grateful that Rachel doesn’t dwell there, instead continuing to recount her professional journey to landing the role of Andy Sachs. Quinn’s momentary discomfort slips away then, replaced by a growing feeling of pride at Rachel’s determination and success.

“After seeing you perform in person, I can’t imagine anyone else playing the role of Andy,” she says.

Samuel returns with their drinks then—a glass of chardonnay for Rachel and a glass of sparkling water garnished with lemon for Quinn—and Quinn falls silent for a moment as she watches him set them down on the table. She thanks him before he scurries off once more.

Quinn picks up her glass and holds it up for a toast, offering Rachel a warm smile. “Happy birthday, Rachel, and here’s to all your current and continued success.”

Rachel sends her a smile that’s both bashful and pleased, sending a rush of warmth through Quinn, before touching her own glass against Quinn’s.

 **RACHEL:** “Thank you, Quinn,” Rachel murmurs as their glasses meet with a soft clink, still feeling the effects of Quinn’s earnest compliment singing through her blood, stronger than any alcohol. She vaguely wonders if hearing Quinn say those kind of things will ever stop having this effect on her.

“And here’s to your future success in the publishing industry,” she adds to Quinn’s toast.  

Quinn’s lips curve into a grateful smile before they press against her glass. When Rachel realizes that her gaze is inexplicably focused there, she quickly pulls it away and takes a sip of her own drink before slowly lowering her glass back to the table.

“We should probably take a moment to look over the menu before…our server comes back,” Rachel suggests, barely stopping herself from calling the poor man ‘El.’

QUINN: Rachel’s tone regarding Quinn’s future success is so certain, and even though she has a great support system now, she remembers how, for a time, Rachel was the only one who ever thought she was capable of doing more with her life.

And even now, knowing that Quinn crashed and burned at Yale, Rachel still believes in her. She’s grateful for that.

But Rachel’s right in that they should figure out what to have for dinner, so Quinn sets her glass down before looking over the menu. The dishes are mostly familiar, with a bit of a twist on the ingredients to make them vegan-friendly, so Quinn isn’t completely lost trying to figure out what to order. Although, truthfully, this isn’t her first time at a vegan restaurant. When she first arrived in New Haven, she had scoped out the local vegan spots so that when Rachel visited, she’d already have a lay of the land.

Of course, Rachel never visited, but… well, Quinn’s determined to get it right now.

“Here you are, ladies,” Samuel announces with a friendly smile, setting down a steaming plate of pasta between Quinn and Rachel. “Butternut squash gnocchi.”

Quinn thanks him once again, years of etiquette still ingrained in her.

“Do you know what you’d like to order for dinner?”

She checks with Rachel to make sure she’s ready, which she affirms before telling Quinn to order first. She offers Rachel another soft smile before unconsciously licking her lips as her gaze drifts down to the menu in her hands. “I’ll have the hickory barbecue tempeh,” Quinn says, curious to see how it stacks up to real barbecue.

 **RACHEL:** She invites Quinn to order first, partially out of politeness and partially to give herself an extra thirty seconds to make a final decision between the port wine seitan and the Moroccan tagine. They’re both incredibly tempting. Ultimately, the onions and the garlic mashed potatoes with the seitan push her more firmly in the direction of the tagine—not that she has any specific reason to avoid the onions and garlic. It’s not like this is a date.

Quinn orders the hickory barbecue tempeh, which also looks good, but Rachel stays firm in her decision, and tells El that, “I’ll have the Moroccan tagine.”

“Excellent choices,” he promises them both, collecting their menus with a smile. “I’ll put in your order right away. Enjoy the gnocchi, ladies.” And then he’s gone again, leaving Rachel alone with Quinn.

“That looks delicious,” Rachel notes with a grin, reaching for her fork. “Shall we see if it tastes as good as it looks?”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s right, it does look delicious, and the scent of butternut that wafts in her direction makes Quinn’s mouth water and her stomach grumble a bit.

“Definitely,” she agrees, hoping that Rachel didn’t actually hear her stomach growl as she reaches for her own fork. “After you.”

Rachel’s grin widens ever so slightly, and her brown eyes seem to twinkle from the candlelight as she spears one of the gnocchi with her fork. Quinn watches as Rachel gently blows on her food to cool it off a bit before popping it into her mouth.

 **RACHEL:** The flavor explodes on her tongue, and Rachel hums in pleasure as she lowers her fork from her mouth, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment as she savors the taste of the gnocchi. Quinn made an excellent choice in ordering them.

Careful to chew the morsel completely, Rachel opens her eyes to find Quinn watching her intently, and she worries for a moment that she might have a bit of the white cashew sauce on her mouth. Lifting her napkin, she self-consciously dabs at the corners of her lips before grinning shyly.

“It’s so good, Quinn. It just melts in your mouth,” she shares, noticing that Quinn has yet to take a bite—her fork still hovering over the plate between them. “You really have to try one,” Rachel urges.

 **QUINN:** The way Rachel’s eyes fall closed as she savors her food is somewhat mesmerizing to Quinn. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this expression on Rachel’s face before—a soft look of pleasure—and when Rachel hums in satisfaction, Quinn almost forgets to breathe.

It’s not until Rachel speaks, insisting that Quinn try some gnocchi too that she realizes she’s staring. Quinn blinks, and heat creeps up the sides of her neck as she averts her gaze. She scoops up some of the pasta with her fork then, grateful for the distraction.

“Oh, wow,” Quinn says once she finishes swallowing, surprised at just how good it actually is. “It really does melt in your mouth.”

 **RACHEL:** This is nice, relaxing and sharing a meal with Quinn—watching her genuinely enjoy the moment (and the food) without any pretense or drama or momentous life-altering events hanging over their heads. It’s not something that they’d ever had a chance to do in the past, and that was as much Rachel’s fault as Quinn’s.

“Ordering the gnocchi was very good decision,” Rachel compliments Quinn, dipping her fork back into the plate to snag herself another. She smiles when Quinn does the same.

Carefully placing the gnocchi in her mouth, Rachel savors her second taste, managing to keep her little moan of pleasure from slipping out this time. As she chews, she contemplates all the questions that she still wants to ask Quinn, but she’s unwilling to lose the relaxed mood that they’re currently enjoying.

“So, I feel like I have a better understanding of your life as a professional cheerleader. Now tell me a little about your other job. What does an editorial assistant do?” she asks, genuinely interested in what Quinn does when she isn’t cheering for the Jets.

 **QUINN:** She sets her fork down and dabs at her mouth, taking a small sip of water before answering Rachel’s question about her job.

“Well, mostly I help our editors with their various tasks in the editorial and production processes, although next season I’m going to get my first book to manage all on my own,” Quinn explains, trying to temper her excitement at the prospect, but she still can’t stop a small smile from gracing her lips. “I also proofread all the marketing material and blog posts before they get published.

“Books are one of the most important things in this world, in my opinion,” she continues. “So it’s pretty rewarding getting to be a part of making them. And it’s nice knowing that it’s something that people will enjoy.”

 **RACHEL:** It becomes very clear very quickly just how passionate Quinn really is about books and the publishing industry. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and a lilt of enthusiasm in her voice that Rachel has never witnessed before—well, other than in herself when she talks about performing. She can’t tear her eyes away from Quinn’s face. Somehow, she’s even more beautiful in this moment. How is that even possible?

“You always did love books,” Rachel breathes, blushing in embarrassment when she realizes just how fondly reminiscent that sounded. Licking her lips, she explains, “You almost always had one with you.”

She’d lost count of the number of times in high school that she’d witnessed Quinn in the back of the choir room with her nose buried in a book.

Rachel smiles softly at Quinn, who’s wearing a pleased smile of her own. “And now you’re going to…manage one?” she asks curiously before shaking her head a little. “What exactly does that entail? And what did you mean by next season? Is that like…a football season?”

Quinn laughs at that, and Rachel blushes even more. But oh—Quinn’s happy laughter does something to her.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s question is so endearing that Quinn can’t help but let out a happy laugh. It’s one that’s so rare—Beth is the only other person who can get her to laugh like this.

“Not quite,” she explains once her laughter subsides. “There are two seasons in the publishing world—spring and fall. Summer is part of the spring season and winter is part of the fall. As for what managing a book entails…” Quinn trails off, licking her lips as she thinks of the best way to describe it. “It’s sort of like being a shepherd. Our acquisition editor will hand off the manuscript to me, and I’m then responsible for the project until it goes to press. So that means moving the book through copyediting stages and then through the page layout.”

 **RACHEL:** For some reason, picturing Quinn ‘shepherding’ a book has Rachel imagining her back in her McKinley cheerleading uniform with her hands on her hips as she barks out orders to the girls beneath her—those little furrows between her eyebrows and the tendons in her neck more pronounced than usual as she whips them into tip-top shape for their next competition. It’s not altogether an unappealing memory.

Somehow, Rachel doesn’t think that Quinn would fully appreciate the comparison, but there’s another one that springs into Rachel’s mind that has her grinning. “So, you’re almost like a director,” she realizes, “but for books. Getting a script and working with all the actors,” she says, thoughtlessly lifting her hands to make air quotes around the word, “until everything is perfect and ready for its big premiere.”

She can absolutely envision Quinn doing something like that.

“You’ll definitely have to let me know what your book ends up being about. I’ll obviously be buying a copy when it’s published.”

Even if it ends up being a instruction book on building furniture, Rachel will put it on her shelf in a show of support for Quinn’s career. Maybe by then, she’ll even be able to tell her friends about Quinn’s ‘first book.’

 **QUINN:** “I’ve never thought about it being like directing before, but yeah, I guess it’s kind of like that,” she agrees with a thoughtful grin—Rachel’s seemingly genuine enthusiasm over her work has Quinn feeling unexpectedly good. “And thank you for offering to buy the book when it comes out. I’m sure our publisher and the author will appreciate it…. and I know I will,” she adds softly, trying to convey how much she really does appreciate Rachel’s support, gazing at her meaningfully.

Rachel smiles—a soft, gentle curving of her lips—and the warning bells start going off in Quinn’s head again. She’s always been a sucker for that smile, and this needs to not be happening.

Tonight is about new beginnings, not breathing life into old feelings best left in the past.

“But I’ll let you know when it’s out,” Quinn says, doing her best to push those unwanted feelings away. “I think you might actually like it. It’s a biography on Arthur Miller.”

 **RACHEL:** Arthur Miller is so much better than furniture.

“In that case, I might actually read it, too,” Rachel jokes, but not really. She’s so relieved to hear that Quinn is managing a book that she’ll actually be interested in. “He’s no Stephen Sondheim, but he definitely left his mark on the theater. And I suppose on Marilyn Monroe as well,” she adds with a cheeky grin, earning an adorable little giggle from Quinn.

Rachel almost mentions that her former—well, that Riley had been firmly in the camp of believing that Marilyn was actually a closeted bisexual, but Rachel bites back the useless information, instead assuring Quinn that, “I’ll happily add it to my shelf.”

Quinn’s eyes dart away and her teeth drag over her lower lip again, and Rachel gets the feeling that she’s trying to stifle her smile, though Rachel can’t imagine why. But then ‘El’ returns to their table with their plates balanced expertly in his hands, and Rachel lets the observation fall away as he carefully places the tempeh in front of Quinn before setting the tagine down in front of her.

“Can I get anything else for you right now?” he asks.

“Not for me, thank you,” Rachel tells him before glancing to Quinn, who politely echoes the sentiment.

With a nod, he informs them that he’ll be back to check on them later before he leaves them to enjoy their meals.

Looking down at her plate, Rachel is certain that she will. “It looks delicious.”

She lifts her gaze back to Quinn with a smile. “I really am glad you invited me out tonight, Quinn. I’m having a wonderful time.”

 **QUINN:** The thought of Rachel adding a book to her shelf, just because it’s something Quinn had a hand in making, brings on that familiar feeling of warmth, and… dammit, it’s getting harder and harder to fight the feelings Rachel stirs within her.

Samuel’s arrival with their food offers a momentary distraction, but Rachel’s compliment draws Quinn’s attention right back to her dinner companion.

“I’m glad,” she replies, feeling both pleased and relieved that Rachel’s enjoying herself. “Now, I need to see for myself how this tempeh compares to an actual steak.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s comment reminds Rachel that she isn’t actually vegan and likely not vegetarian either, and yet she’s here at her own suggestion, trying vegan food—for Rachel. Apparently, those butterflies haven’t been plied with enough alcohol to be passed out yet, or they’ve possibly had too much and have decided to throw a party instead.

Flushing with pleasure, Rachel ignores her own meal as her eyes go soft on Quinn. “I hope you like it. It means so much to me that you suggested this restaurant. Even my exes never managed to remember my dietary preferences with any regularity,” she says with a rueful smile. “They seemed to think that as long as there was a salad on the menu, I’d be covered. Even Kurt will occasionally choose a restaurant using that meager criterion,” she complains before recalling that the last time she’d mentioned him, Quinn had bristled. “At least Stephanie remembers,” Rachel rushes to add, hoping to distract Quinn from the mention of their old friend with a new one, “but then, that’s probably because she’s a vegetarian as well.”

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t know whether to feel smug about doing something better than Rachel’s exes or annoyed that they were that inconsiderate. But, internally, Quinn reacts much better at the mention of Kurt this time around, because tonight, she is mentally prepared—well, as much as she can be—to hear the name of one or more of her former classmates. Still, Quinn’s relieved that Rachel doesn’t dwell there.

“I think it’s just basic courtesy,” Quinn replies with a small shrug. “I mean, it would be pretty terrible of me to suggest someplace you couldn’t fully enjoy for your birthday. So as long as you like your meal, I’ll consider tonight a success,” she finishes with a soft smile.

 **RACHEL:** If this were actually a ‘date’ date, it would be the best one that Rachel has had in a very long time. What Quinn calls basic courtesy feels more like thoughtful attention to detail that so many people in Rachel’s life have sadly lacked. That Quinn—six years removed from their ‘kind of’ friendship—would remember something so insignificant to her own life means more to Rachel than Quinn could ever comprehend. And she’d somehow managed to remember both Rachel’s birthday and her (former) vegan lifestyle!

It makes Rachel believe that Quinn might have thought (and wondered) about her over the years the way that Rachel has thought (and wondered) about Quinn.

She doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

“The food could be terrible, and tonight will still be a success.”

 **QUINN:** Quinn smiles shyly before biting her lower lip, not quite knowing what to say in response to Rachel, but feeling very touched by the sentiment. It has been a good night so far though, and Quinn is relieved at how smoothly things are going and that she and Rachel are both enjoying themselves and each other’s company.

Deciding that she’s waited enough for her food to cool off, Quinn slices off a piece of her tempeh and pops it into her mouth, chewing it slowly. The texture doesn’t really compare to that of steak, but the flavor? It’s just as good if not better than some barbecue she’s had in the past. “This is really good,” she exclaims as soon as she finishes swallowing her food down. “How’s yours?”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s shy smile has Rachel’s heart fluttering—along with those butterflies. It’s funny that she’d really never paid much attention to this reaction back in high school, though she remembers occasionally experiencing something similar to it whenever Quinn had been especially nice to her. She’d chalked it up to having the approval of the head cheerleader (because somehow that’s what Quinn always was even after she was no longer on the squad).

Now Rachel suspects that those flutters were probably more a result of the subtle

attraction that she hadn’t cared to notice while her heart and mind had been so fully occupied by Finn.

It’s another one of those realizations that Rachel probably wouldn’t have had if her life had followed ‘the plan.’

And right now, it’s that particular realization that’s making it increasingly difficult to remember that this isn’t a date.

There are far too many things that still need to be discussed before Rachel can let herself think beyond having Quinn back in her life as a friend. Honestly, she hasn’t even told her friends that she’s seeing Quinn yet!

‘Seeing’ in the friendly, non-dating way, of course.

Rachel doesn’t fully realize that she’s still ignoring her own meal in favor of gazing tenderly at Quinn—whose face reveals genuine, happy surprise that her food is actually good—until Quinn asks her how she likes hers.

“I’ll let you know in a minute,” she promises, blushing in embarrassment as she ducks her head and spears her fork into the vegetables and tofu in front of her. Sliding a fairly balanced bite into her mouth, she doesn’t notice Quinn’s curious eyes on her until she finally glances up, and she offers a satisfied smile and a nod. “It’s good. I guess that makes tonight perfect.”

 **QUINN:** Another shy smile graces Quinn’s lips as she lowers her head. It’s so rare for Quinn to do anything perfectly—although, she knows from experience that there’s still plenty of time to mess things up. But for now, she’ll take it.

But all these compliments, and the way Rachel says them… it’s almost like she’s flirting with Quinn.

No, that’s impossible, she reminds herself. Rachel is definitely straight, and Quinn is definitely imagining things. She once again mentally shakes her head, and a companionable silence falls over them while they dig into their meals.

But Quinn can’t stop from sneaking glances at Rachel (to make sure she’s still enjoying her dinner, of course—not for any other reason), and a few times she catches Rachel doing the same. Each time, their eyes meet briefly and they offer small smiles to one another, and it’s ridiculous how much Quinn’s stomach flutters when it happens.

God, she’s so screwed.

 **RACHEL:** For a time, they enjoy their meals in a relatively comfortable silence—only ‘relatively’ because Rachel has to fight against her instinct to fill the quiet between them with some of the questions that are burning through her mind.

Questions like where was Quinn living between the time she dropped out of Yale to the time she moved to New Jersey two years ago; does she still keep in touch with her mother; does she have many manic or depressive episodes or does she have medication that manages them; does she have someone special in her life to rely on; did she have sex with Santana and was it really just a one-time thing?

Okay, that last one is decidedly personal and purely selfish, but damn it, Rachel really wants to know if there’s even a chance that—

No. She can’t think about that yet.

Instead, more than halfway through her tagine, she settles on a deceptively innocent question that she’s hoping will coax some more personal information out of Quinn.

“So, what are your plans for the holidays? Are you spending them with anyone special?”

And okay—maybe that second part isn’t quite so innocent after all.

 **QUINN:** She can’t stop the smile that forms at Rachel’s mention of ‘someone special,’ as Quinn’s mind immediately goes to Beth.

“I guess you could say that,” she replies after she finishes swallowing her mashed potatoes, but she decides not to bring up her plans that involve Beth, who she’ll be seeing the day after Christmas. Instead, she opts to tell Rachel about her other plans. “My mom is coming to visit for Christmas. She lives in Connecticut now… has for about five years,” Quinn offers somewhat reluctantly, not really wanting to dwell on the circumstances that led to that happening. But going back to Lima has never been a safe option. “And Christmas Eve I’ll be spending with Kaitlyn’s family. Her family is Italian, so they do the Feast of the Seven Fishes. It’s… interesting,” she finishes with a wry smile.

 **RACHEL:** When Rachel asks about someone special, Quinn’s entire expression softens, and if Rachel had to pick a word to describe her smile, it would be ‘adoring.’ Her stomach bottoms out, and she braces herself for the mention of the inevitable boyfriend, but it never comes. Instead, Quinn shares her plans to spend the holidays with her mother and Kaitlyn.

Rachel can’t quite reconcile the admission with Quinn’s smile, but she’s happy to have at least one of her questions answered.

“It sounds like you’ll have a wonderful Christmas,” Rachel muses with a small smile, fighting off the tiny twinge of jealousy that she experiences at hearing how close—and how comfortable—Quinn seems to be with Kaitlyn to be spending Christmas Eve with her family.

But right now, Rachel is more interested in how close Quinn is to her own family. “It’s nice that your mother is living near enough to visit. How is she?” she asks evenly.

When Rachel had finally surfaced from her grief over Finn’s death enough to realize that Quinn had completely dropped off the radar, she’d had the thought to try to contact Judy Fabray in order to find out how she could get in touch with Quinn, but the woman had disappeared almost as thoroughly as her daughter. Her address in Lima had been a dead end with the house newly on the market. Santana had actually still had Judy’s cell phone number stored from a cheerios’ bootcamp incident freshman year, and both she and Rachel had left several messages on the woman’s voicemail, but Judy had never returned any of their calls.

Rachel has a better idea of why now, but it doesn’t erase the shadow of frustration from years ago.

 **QUINN:** “She’s doing well,” Quinn replies. Her mom has her own share of bad memories tied to Lima, so even though her reasons for leaving were to look after Quinn, she’s carved out a nice, new life for herself in Connecticut. “She lives in Milford, which is a coastal town that sits along the Long Island Sound, so she spends most of her summers on the water. She joined the yacht club,” she continues with a light laugh and a slight roll of her eyes. “It’s not as fancy as it sounds. But she’s made some friends through it, and she loves it, so…”

‘It’s one less thing for me to feel guilty about,’ she finishes silently as she takes a sip of her water.

“You mentioned before that your dads are going to be visiting. How are they doing?” Quinn asks.

 **RACHEL:** It sounds like Judy Fabray is thriving in her new home and that she and Quinn have good relationship now. Rachel is glad to hear it.

“My dads are also doing well,” Rachel answers. “They consider themselves semi-retired. But Dad…that’s Hiram,” she explains, “still does some financial consulting for a few clients, me included,” she adds with a proud grin. In fact, his advice is a major reason that she can afford her apartment in Yorkville—and why she wasn’t completely destitute while she was still haunting every open audition and praying for any role.

“And Daddy…Leroy,” she qualifies needlessly, “will occasionally give a guest Anthropology lecture at Georgetown.”

Not all of the trips that he and Dad had taken over the years had only been for pleasure. When Daddy hadn’t been teaching at OSU Lima, he’d been immersing himself in various other cultures in pursuit of his professional passion.

Quinn’s eyebrow quirks up in surprise, and Rachel realizes that she’d left out one particular detail. “Oh, they’re living in Alexandria, Virginia, now,” she clarifies. “They moved there about four years ago, and they love it, especially Old Town with all of its boutiques, antique shops, and, of course, the theater. They got tired of the Ohio winters, but they’re also not fans of excessive heat and humidity, so they decided that Virginia was a nice compromise. And it’s only about four hours away.

“It will be nice to have them here for a few a days, especially now that I have my own apartment and can host them properly. It was always so cramped and awkward when they visited while I was living with Riley,” she says without thinking.

 **QUINN:** She’s oddly relieved to know that the Berrys are no longer living in Ohio, although she isn’t exactly sure why. It’s not like she ever saw Rachel’s parents all that often, even back in high school, but… well, she guesses Rachel doesn’t have much reason to go back there anymore.

Not that it should matter to Quinn. Not at this point.

But then Rachel mentions a name she’s never heard before, and that’s enough to stop Quinn’s current contemplation. “Who’s Riley?” she asks curiously, remembering that

Rachel mentioned living with a friend in Queens before moving to Manhattan.

 **RACHEL:** Reaching for her wine, Rachel takes a generous sip before answering Quinn. She silently chastises herself for mentioning Riley at all, but really, it’s a subject that will have to come up eventually if she and Quinn are going to have a relationsh- er, friendship. She carefully sets her glass back down and drops her hands into her lap so that Quinn won’t see her anxious fidgeting.

“Riley is my ex…roommate,” she says carefully before she takes a fortifying breath and shakes her head slightly at her own hesitation. “And, well…my most recent ex,” she admits vaguely.

Quinn presses her lips together, silently nodding, and Rachel pushes forward, deciding to lay it all out on the table, so to speak.

“We met doing this short-lived original show off Broadway. The show didn’t take off, but Riley and I became friends. And, well, after Kurt and Blaine got married, it just made sense for me to find another place to live to give them some privacy, and Riley happened to be looking for a new roommate.”

Rachel licks her lips as she meets Quinn’s inscrutable gaze. “It really was all very cliché,” she muses with a faint smile, shrugging a shoulder. She always has had a certain weakness for living out those classic, romantic tropes. “We started as friends and roommates first, but…there was an obvious attraction that we eventually acted on. It was good until it wasn’t,” she explains simply, not wanting to get into the specifics of their ultimate incompatibility, but she does confess that, “There was some professional jealousy when I got the role of Andy.”

Rachel doesn’t mention that Riley was also jealous of Stephanie and her friendship (and frequent but harmless flirtation) with Rachel. Smiling nervously, Rachel holds Quinn’s gaze, watching to see how she’ll take the next little revelation.

“In retrospect, it was probably not the best idea to date a fellow actress, especially when you’re competing for the same roles.”

 **QUINN:** Despite the gender-neutral name, Quinn assumes that Riley is a guy once Rachel admits they were exes. Because Rachel is straight, Quinn reminds herself, but that doesn’t stop the twinge of disappointment (and jealousy).

So when Rachel ends her ramble with the revelation that, Riley is, in fact, not an actor but an actress—and therefore definitely not a guy—well, Quinn’s brain sort of breaks.

“Actress?” she asks, wanting to make sure she didn’t mishear.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s expression goes kind of blank for a moment, almost like she didn’t catch what Rachel said, but then she draws a quick, little breath and repeats the word ‘actress’ with an odd crackle in her voice, and Rachel thinks that maybe she should have eased into that particular revelation a little more smoothly.

Puffing out a breath, Rachel feels her smile waver around the edges. Despite the fact that she isn’t exactly living a closeted life, she actually hasn’t ‘come out’ to very many people yet. Her dads, obviously, who hadn’t been all that surprised despite her decidedly heteronormative past, Kurt and Blaine, both of whom had worn similar expressions to the one on Quinn’s face right now, and Santana and Brittany, who’d apparently made a bet on Rachel’s sexuality back in high school. Brittany had won, but only because Santana had thought that Rachel’s ‘sapphic’ leanings only leaned toward Quinn and that she’d never admit to it.

“Um…yeah. Actress,” Rachel confirms, watching Quinn’s eyes widen. “I realized after…ah…well…while I was still studying at NYADA,” she stutters out, thinking briefly of Genevieve, the dancer who’d taken her by surprise until, “it became clear that I’m attracted to women as well as men.”

And oh, boy, does Rachel have a type when it comes to women.

Quinn inhales sharply through her nose at the admission, and Rachel frowns, feeling those butterflies drop like lead in her belly. “Is that…is that going to be a problem for you?”

 **QUINN:** “No,” she rushes out, wanting to reassure Rachel even though she’s still trying to process the realization that Rachel is bisexual. “Not at all.”

Even so, Quinn’s thoughts are flying all over the place at this latest discovery, and she doesn’t know whether to be upset because her own timing was all wrong or happy because maybe she wasn’t imagining Rachel flirting with her before. Other emotions keep popping up—jealousy, hopefulness, doubt—but it’s impossible to make sense of them all right now.

But Rachel still looks uncertain, her lips pulled down into a nervous frown, and Quinn realizes that her assurances were anything but considering how nervous she probably sounded (and the fact that she’s still staring wide-eyed at Rachel).

So Quinn lets out a steadying breath, knowing that it’s only fair to be honest in return. “Rachel, I promise, it isn’t a problem at all,” she insists, voice much steadier this time. “After all, it would be kind of hypocritical of me,” she finishes before curving her lips up into a half smile, belying the nervous fluttering in her belly at the admission.

 **RACHEL:** Her heart skitters irregularly as she tries to process Quinn’s words. Does she mean…? Or is she just referring to that alleged assignation with Santana? Rachel has never been completely certain how to take Santana’s revelation since it had come right on the heels of Rachel coming out to her—an off-color comment about college girls experimenting and Rachel not ‘figuring out her shit’ in time to be Quinn’s one-time thing. Of course, by then, Quinn had been gone, if not forgotten, and Santana had been bitter enough to voice the opinion that Quinn had probably gotten the bi-curiosity out of her system, gone back to Yale, and gotten herself knocked up again, maybe even running off with that psychology professor of hers to pop out a bunch of boring little brats.

Dragging in a breath, Rachel drops her eyes to the table, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “Oh…um… you…you mean what happened with…with Santana. She…she mentioned that you…you once…well…” she trails off awkwardly, annoyed at the familiar jealousy that burns through her.

Rachel forces a laugh. “I suppose she was a safe way to satisfy your curiosity,” she reasons, tramping down her jealousy as she lifts her eyes back to Quinn, whose half-smile has slipped into a thoughtful frown. “If…if that’s all it was?” she adds, trying to keep the hopefulness from her voice.

 **QUINN:** The night of Quinn’s one-time (actually two-time) thing with Santana isn’t something she thinks about very often considering it was the very last time she saw Finn… and he was sneaking off with Rachel to…

She frowns and swallows thickly, blinking a few times and trying to force away the unpleasant feelings that threaten to rise up with moderate success.

“While it’s true that Santana was a safe way for me to finally act on my predilection for women,” she says carefully, “I wasn’t just sating a curiosity. I’m… I’m gay, Rachel.”

 **RACHEL:** Eyes wide, Rachel has to remind herself to breath after Quinn’s confession.

Gay. Quinn is gay. A lesbian. Attracted to women. Not completely unattainable.

And that’s not completely appropriate to think about right now, but really—

“That’s wonderful!” Rachel breathes, unable to repress the smile that tugs at her lips.

Quinn’s eyebrow quirks, and Rachel blushes, struggling to calm her excitement at the discovery that this not-date date could possibly lead to an actual-date date someday in the future. Well, assuming that Quinn is even attracted to her, which she might not be, considering that Quinn is absolutely gorgeous and almost always surrounded by equally gorgeous women, and she’d smiled that adoring smile when Rachel had asked about someone special, and just because Kaitlyn has a boyfriend doesn’t mean that Quinn doesn’t have more-than-friendly feelings for her, and—

Rachel really needs to stop thinking about these things right now.

“I mean, it’s wonderful that you’ve accepted your sexuality and that you’re comfortable enough to share it with me now,” she explains, offering Quinn what she hopes is a supportive smile. “I…I remember how confused I was when I first realized that I’m attracted to women. I was afraid of what it would mean for me.”

‘And my career,’ she adds silently. In fact, she’d had a very dramatic, award-worthy—albeit brief—freakout even though she’d been raised to be open to love in every form. Being bisexual had thrown a huge curve into every plan that Rachel had once made for her life, but ultimately, she’d known that she needed to live honestly and openly and let her heart lead her wherever it would. It’s what Finn would want for her.

“I can only imagine that it must have been even more confusing for you with…well…everything else,” she says carefully, not mentioning any of the specifics of Quinn’s tumultuous past.

 **QUINN:** Confusing doesn’t even begin to describe Quinn’s own process of realizing her sexuality. Her father’s brand of Christianity had her convinced God would punish her for being gay. She fought against it for so long, and she lashed out against the object of her attraction for the longest time, blaming Rachel for making her experience all those ‘unnatural’ feelings.

However, Quinn isn’t exactly keen on revealing all that to Rachel. She’s apologized for her bullying of Rachel before, but she never offered the real reason behind it, nor does she plan to do so now.

Sleeping with Santana, though, had been an awakening of sorts, and Quinn knew she could never go back to dating men after that. Unfortunately, with the onset of her depressive, manic, and mixed episodes over the years, dating women has been challenging.

“It was,” Quinn concedes. “And it did take awhile to get there, but I’m comfortable with that part of myself now. I’m glad you are too.”

It’s so surreal to say those words. She can’t believe she’s having this conversation with Rachel. She can’t believe that Rachel isn’t straight. She pinches her thigh under the table to make sure she isn’t dreaming, but she doesn’t wake up.

 **RACHEL:** It’s been a really long time since Rachel has felt this way—had this sense that all her dreams are converging and she’s standing on the edge of something truly wonderful. Winning the role of Andy had been the beginning—the moment when she’d finally been poised to make all her professional dreams come true—but her relationship with Riley had already been faltering by then, and it had cast a small, dark cloud over what should have been a wonderful moment. Losing the relationship had hurt, but losing the friendship had been worse, and she’s come to accept that Riley just wasn’t the right person for her.

Not that Rachel is suddenly thinking that Quinn is that person—it’s far too soon for anything like that, and there’s still too much for them to learn about each other now—but she can’t help feeling like Fate has stepped in and brought them back into each other’s lives for a reason.

Rachel had never completely stopped thinking about Quinn in all the years they’d been apart, wondering about her, hoping she was happy—imagining what her life might have been like if they hadn’t lost touch.

And now, Quinn is here, opening up to her, and there’s actually a real chance that they could become something more.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Quinn,” Rachel tells her honestly. And then, because she really can’t help herself, she lets herself ask, in the most casual way she can manage, “Is there a special lady in your life that I’m keeping you away from tonight?”

‘Please say no,’ she prays.

 **QUINN:** The look in Rachel’s eye and her enthusiasm makes Quinn wonder if there’s something more to Rachel’s reaction to her coming out. But it’s the way Rachel asks if she’s seeing anyone that gives Quinn pause. Is it just a friendly question or is it a testing of the waters?

Quinn shakes her head before answering, “No. I’m… taking a break from dating. My schedule is kind of packed, and I need to focus on myself right now, you know?” She bites her lower lip, feeling her stomach dip before asking, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

 **RACHEL:** The overwhelming relief wars with a mild trickle of disappointment—relief that Quinn is currently single and disappointment that she isn’t looking to date anyone right now. And of course, Rachel shouldn’t be disappointed because this isn’t a date, and they’re easing back into their friendship, and she can be patient.

Mostly.

Sometimes.

“I can certainly understand the need to focus on yourself,” Rachel agrees. “I suppose that I’ve been doing a bit of that myself recently. With the show being so successful, I haven’t really had much time for a new relationship since…well, since Riley and I officially ended our romance. It made those last months of sharing an apartment incredibly difficult,” she admits with a pained smile.

Every day had been a silent standoff of hurt and disappointment until Rachel had found a suitable place of her own and Riley had found another roommate. Thankfully, Rachel’s schedule had kept her out of the apartment more often than not.

“I’ve been out on a few dates here and there since then, but nothing has really clicked. So I’m currently unattached.” She smiles softly at Quinn, reaching for her wine glass and running the tips of her fingers along the stem. “Unattached but hopeful,” she amends before taking another drink, watching Quinn’s lips part to draw in a breath from over the rim of her glass.

 **QUINN:** The fact that Rachel is single and looking and… sweet Jesus, the way she’s looking at Quinn while taking a sip of her wine—there’s no mistaking the intent there. It’s almost enough to make Quinn forget every logical and good reason she’s had for staying out of the dating pool and attempt to dive right back in if it means a chance with Rachel Berry.

Because it’s a chance she never thought she’d have but dreamed of (tortured herself with) countless nights.

But there is a fear there as well, and that holds her back more than anything. She’s been attempting to slowly ease herself back into a friendship with Rachel. She never considered the possibility of anything more, but Quinn knows Rachel deserves better than her.

And she realizes that she’s once again staring at Rachel as she lowers her now empty wine glass to the table. Heat flushes Quinn’s cheeks as she tears her gaze from Rachel, only to see that Samuel has materialized next to their table.

“More wine, miss?” he asks Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** The expression on Quinn’s face is a study in conflict—a strange sort of longing all tangled up with nervous trepidation. But Rachel can’t quite figure out which emotion is the dominant one, and she realizes with a sinking sensation that her subtle flirting might be entirely unwelcome. So much for her being patient and listening. Quinn just told her that she wasn’t looking for a relationship right now, and Rachel still couldn’t seem to stop herself from making it known that she most definitely is.

She can admit it to herself at least. She’s attracted to Quinn and always has been, and now that she knows the possibility exists, she’s hoping that Quinn feels the same way. But even if she does, it won’t mean that Quinn will want to pursue anything more than the friendship that Rachel had promised her. Rachel doesn’t want to scare Quinn away or make her uncomfortable, so she’ll just have to make more of an effort to rein in her own desires.

She’s almost relieved when ‘El’ suddenly materializes at their table, providing a distraction from the awkwardness currently hanging between them. Rachel smiles politely at his offer to get her another glass of wine, but she’s quick to tell him, “No, thank you. One is my limit tonight.” Any more and she really won’t trust what might slip out of her mouth.

“Can I offer you anything else? Coffee? Dessert?” he queries helpfully.

“Oh, nothing for me, thank you,” Rachel refuses. She couldn’t possibly eat another bite.

‘El’ turns to Quinn with a smile. “What about you, miss? We have a wonderful tiramisu. Or if you’d prefer something a little lighter, we have fresh berries and cream. It’s delicious.”

 **QUINN:** “While that does sound tempting, I’m going to have to pass,” she replies with a polite smile. She actually wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, but if Rachel’s not having anything, then neither will Quinn. Besides, she needs some time to process everything that’s happened tonight, and doing that with Rachel sitting in front of her will be next to impossible. “I’ll just take the check.”

“Certainly,” Samuel replies before picking up their now-empty plates. “I’ll be right back with that.”

Quinn chances a glance back at Rachel, but she isn’t quite sure what to say. Everything she wants to say—she had a great time tonight, she hopes they can do this again—could easily be misconstrued as having a deeper meaning. Which wouldn’t necessarily be inaccurate, but… tonight was just supposed to be a friendly dinner. No big deal.

 **RACHEL:** Silence descends on their table as they wait for ‘El’ to bring the check, and Rachel can feel the end of their evening together approaching swiftly. Quinn seems to be overly fascinated with her water glass right now, as if she doesn’t quite know what to say next. Rachel can think of a plethora of topics, but almost all of them hold the potential to close out their night on a less than happy note.

But there is one subject that she really can’t avoid, even though she knows Quinn might not react favorably.

“I’ve really enjoyed tonight, Quinn. The food, the company…everything was lovely. I really hope we can do it again sometime soon,” she begins, watching Quinn’s lips curve into a shy smile.

Rachel licks her own lips nervously, taking a breath. “But…well, I haven’t really told anyone other than Stephanie that we…that I ran into you again.” And yeah, there goes Quinn’s smile. “And I won’t if you really object to it,” Rachel is quick to assure her, “but, Quinn, I…I don’t want to lie to my friends indefinitely. Do you…do you think you might ever be okay with me telling them that we’ve been in touch?”

 **QUINN:** She can’t stop the smile that forms at Rachel’s earnest compliment—saying the exact words that are running through Quinn’s mind about tonight. Despite some lingering uncertainty about just how she should proceed with her renewed relationship with Rachel, Quinn’s very glad that dinner was an overall success.

But the mention of her old friends has her stomach sinking. Quinn knows that Rachel’s question is a very reasonable one, and it’s actually something her doctor has asked her about. Rachel’s unexpected return in her life has forced Quinn to start dealing with a part of her past that she had avoided thinking about for so long, but she still has a long way to go.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” she admits, “but eventually… I hope so.” Quinn worries her lower lip for a moment before adding, “I’m working on it.”

Samuel returns then with their check, offering her a brief reprieve, and Quinn quickly looks it over before placing her credit card inside the check holder and handing it back to him.

Quinn shifts her gaze back to Rachel, relieved to see that she appears to accept Quinn’s answer, even if she doesn’t completely understand it.

 **RACHEL:** She’s disappointed but not surprised by Quinn’s answer. Rachel is trying to understand it, but the only thing she can really understand is that it’s getting harder and harder not to tell her best friends what’s going on in her life right now. She wants so badly to be able to go home and call Kurt to gush about her not ‘date’ date—to squeal about the fact that Quinn Fabray is gay and maybe they’ll finally have a chance to get things right now that they’re both older and fully aware of their own proclivities.

She wants to drag Kurt (and even Santana) back on a trip down memory lane to analyze every old interaction that she’d ever had with Quinn and determine if the attraction that Rachel is now very aware of might have been mutual back then. And really, as soon as the thought occurs to her, Rachel is suddenly unsure if she wants that to be the case. Despite the undeniable attraction, her heart had belonged solely to Finn, and she’d probably be married or on her way to being married to him now if his life hadn’t been cut so tragically short. She can’t stand the idea that she might have unwittingly caused Quinn any more pain than she already had by stealing Finn away from her in the first place.

Rachel’s gaze roams over Quinn’s face, taking in the quiet hopefulness in hazel eyes, and Rachel instantly softens, offering a half-smile. “I understand. Whenever you’re ready,” she promises, her smile curling up a little more when it occurs to her just how many times  

she’s made that particular promise to Quinn, and how Quinn is one of the few people that Rachel has ever been this willing to wait for.

She’ll just have to gush to Stephanie.

Or—maybe not. Stephanie is already teasing her enough about Quinn. Rachel hates to admit just how on point she’s been. There’s a whole lot more to Rachel wanting to impress Quinn Fabray than proving her worth to an old friend—there always has been.

 **QUINN:** “Thank you,” she says, grateful for Rachel’s patience.

She knows she’s not always the easiest person to deal with, but Quinn had often found a measure of acceptance from Rachel that her other high school friends had never really been able to give her. Besides the fear of being triggered, there’s also the fact that Quinn knows Kurt and especially Santana won’t be very understanding of everything that happened in the wake of Finn’s death. And that, in itself, could very well send Quinn spiraling again. She’s not willing to go there.

But she is willing to try to get there eventually, and there’s some added incentive now. She just hopes she doesn’t wind up disappointing Rachel.

“Here you are, miss,” Samuel interrupts as he returns with Quinn’s credit card and receipt, before addressing them both, “It’s been a pleasure, ladies.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” Quinn replies with a smile, fully intending on leaving him a nice tip. After all, it is the holiday season.

 **RACHEL:** Their waiter’s name is Samuel? Well, he certainly doesn’t look like a Samuel, but then that could be because Rachel now equates the name with blonde, shaggy-haired men with unfairly lush lips.

“Yes, Samuel,” Rachel repeats, stressing his name. “Thank you for your exemplary service.”

Samuel grins at them, and Rachel thinks his cheeks might even be a little bit ruddy. “You’re very welcome, ladies. Have a wonderful evening.” And then with a little nod, he’s scurrying off to see to another table.

Glancing back at Quinn, Rachel notices the vaguely amused expression on her face and wonders at it. She raises a questioning eyebrow—not nearly as good at it as Quinn still seems to be—but Quinn only shakes her head fondly before she tucks her credit card back into her purse.

Sighing, Rachel watches her with a sense of wistfulness that their meal is over. “Thank you again for dinner, Quinn.” She isn’t about to argue over the bill—Rachel is very happy to accept a gift, even if this one makes this not-date feel even more like a date. But, “The next one will be on me.”

And there will be a next one.

 **QUINN:** There’s something about the way Rachel enunciates their server’s name and thanks him that Quinn finds especially adorable, and Samuel’s own blush is pretty cute too. It’s good to know she’s not the only one affected by Rachel’s charm, but she’s not willing to actually tell Rachel that.

“You’re welcome and happy birthday, Rachel,” Quinn replies with a soft smile, ignoring the butterflies that have sprung to life at the thought of ‘the next one.’ “And I’m looking forward to it.”

And Quinn is, even though she’s not entirely sure she trusts herself not to try to make ‘the next one’ more than a friendly dinner. But then, her heart and her mind have rarely been aligned when it comes to Rachel Berry.


	7. Text Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thursday, January 9, 2020**  
>  Rachel invites Quinn to dinner at her place, but Quinn requests that they go out instead.

**RACHEL:** Hi, Quinn. How are you on this fine afternoon?

 **QUINN:** Hi. :) I'm okay. How are you?

 **RACHEL:** I'm quite well, thank you. :)

 **RACHEL:** I actually wanted to ask you if you might be available this coming Monday? I'd like to properly thank you for our wonderful dinner by showing off my own culinary skills and cooking for you.

 **RACHEL:** I promise I am actually a very good chef these days.

 **QUINN:** You don't need to thank me.

 **QUINN:** And I am free Monday night and I would love to get together, but could I take a raincheck on dinner at your place? Not that I doubt your cooking skills.

 **QUINN:** Could we go out somewhere instead?

 **RACHEL:** Oh. I suppose that would be acceptable.

 **RACHEL:** Did you have somewhere in particular in mind?

 **QUINN:** Not at the moment. I'm headed home now though, so I could look online later this evening to see what's going on.

 **QUINN:** Unless you have another idea?

 **RACHEL:** Sorry. I had hopped in the shower before I head out to the theatre for tonight's show. If there's something particular you're craving, you can certainly let me know. I'm willing to come to you if you'd prefer.

 **RACHEL:** Or...there is a nice little Italian place near Union Square called Ribalta, if you're interested. It's a block away from the The Strand bookstore. Have you ever been there?

 **QUINN:** Ribalta sounds perfect. :)

 **QUINN:** And I love The Strand, but it's been awhile since I've been.

 **RACHEL:** Then we can make an evening of it. Let me know what time to meet you.

 **QUINN:** Sounds great! How about we meet at the restaurant at 6:15?

 **RACHEL:** I will be there with bells on.

 **RACHEL:** Well, not literal bells, of course. ;)

 **QUINN:** Heh, that's a cute mental picture though. See you then, Rachel, and I hope you have a great show tonight!

 **RACHEL:** Thank you, Quinn. I'll see you Monday.


	8. Still Ill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thursday, January 9, 2020**  
>  Quinn’s first appointment with her doctor since the holidays.

Quinn’s early, so she takes a seat in the small waiting room. Even after two years of nearly weekly visits, she still can’t decide if she likes this space or not. She thinks that the black and white photos on the walls and the mustard yellow paint must have been chosen deliberately to be soothing, but the space is small, and even with the tall ceilings, it feels somewhat claustrophobic.

Looking to kill some time and distract herself, Quinn takes her phone out of her purse. She notices that there’s a new text message from Rachel. Familiar butterflies flutter in her belly and she bites her lower lip to stop herself from smiling as she reads it.

She quickly fires off a response before unconsciously tapping her foot as she waits for a reply.

She doesn’t have to wait long, and the invitation that’s extended makes Quinn suck in a breath. An evening all alone in Rachel’s apartment? Oh, that is tempting, but probably not the safest thing right now.

Time hasn’t brought any more clarity as to how Quinn should proceed with Rachel. If anything, it’s becoming harder to keep those more-than-friendly feelings at bay, and with every new text—with how sweet and thoughtful Rachel is—Quinn feels herself falling.

But there’s a healthy dose of frustration and self-loathing that tempers it. And she’s afraid of losing Rachel all over again, eventually leaving Rachel even more resentful than she was the first time Quinn disappeared.

Reluctantly, Quinn types out a careful response. She wants to see Rachel—in fact, she’s been looking forward to it as much as she’s been nervous about it—but it would be smarter to do so in a public place. She feels guilty the second she hits send, knowing that Rachel will likely be upset.

The door to Dr. Herrara’s office opens then, and Quinn jumps in her seat a little, dropping her phone back in her purse and looking up to see a dark head of hair and warm eyes.

“Hi, Quinn,” Dr. Herrara greets with a pleasant smile. “Come on in.”

Quinn gets up from her seat and follows the older woman into her office before settling down into the cushy chair she’s spent hours sitting in.

She’s lucky to have found a doctor she trusts and can talk to. When Quinn decided to leave Connecticut two years ago, her biggest concern was finding a new doctor in New Jersey. It had taken years for her to find a doctor who not only properly diagnosed her but who she clicked with, and Quinn wasn’t eager to repeat that process.

Fortunately, her previous doctor in New Haven knew and recommended Dr. Herrara, and Quinn was incredibly relieved to learn that they’re a good fit.

“How were your holidays?” her doctor asks after she gets settled, yellow legal pad resting on her lap and a pen in hand, but her attention is focused on Quinn.

“Good. Beth loved her presents,” she replies with a smile, remembering how happy Beth was when she saw what Quinn got her—an USWNT Alex Morgan jersey and a pair of custom drum sticks with Beth’s name etched into them.

Beth hadn’t wanted to take the jersey off—running around in her backyard, kicking a soccer ball around, and pretending to score a game-winning goal, propelling Team USA to a World Cup victory. When Shelby had finally convinced Beth to come back inside, she had grabbed Quinn by the hand and led her down into the basement to try out her new drumsticks on her slowly-expanding drum kit (Puck had gifted Beth a new crash cymbal for Hanukkah, which she took great pleasure in banging on).

“And my mom and I had a nice Christmas dinner,” Quinn continues. “Completely alcohol free, too.”

“That’s great,” Dr. Herrara replies. “What about New Year’s Eve? Did you have anything to drink then?”

Quinn shakes her head. “I mean, I had a glass of champagne at midnight, but I was good otherwise. I just… I figured it would be better not to drink. My head’s been kind of a mess the last couple of weeks.”

“How so?”

“I had dinner with Rachel a couple weeks ago.”

Brown eyes shine with understanding then. “I remember you telling me you had plans with her. How did that go?”

“It went well, but… well, I’m still trying to process something she told me.”

Kaitlyn had been an empathetic sounding board, but Quinn hadn’t been able to really verbalize the things she’s feeling or why. Her roommate also doesn’t know all the details of Quinn’s past, and creating a detailed picture for her wasn’t something she was able to do either.

Quinn lets out a long breath before continuing. “Rachel’s bi, and I’m pretty sure she’s interested in me. And I don’t know what to do with any of that,” she says, brow furrowed as she looks at her doctor.

“For the longest time, I thought Rachel was straight. That didn’t stop me from falling in love with her back in high school though. But sometimes I thought there might have been something more on her side. I always told myself I was imagining it, but maybe I wasn’t? Not like it matters though. Finn had her heart, not me. And I wished so many times that he would disappear from Rachel’s life, and then he did, and-” she cuts herself off abruptly, feeling a stab of guilt.

“It’s not your fault, Quinn,” her doctor assures her. “What happened to Finn was an accident.”

“I know. I know that in my head, but it doesn’t feel that way.” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I feel so guilty about so many things, and I know I shouldn’t, but I do. And it just makes this whole thing with Rachel even more complicated. I don’t even know how to unpack it to look at it all. And… I’m afraid to look at it,” she admits with a frown. “But the truth is, I want Rachel. But I also know that I’m no good for her.”

“And why do you think that?”

“You know why,” she says petulantly. “Even though I’m mostly better now, I’m still… I still have this illness that I have no control over. And Rachel isn’t just any woman. She’s tied to my past, and there are people in her life—Kurt, Santana, Brittany—that are also tied to my past. Tied to Finn and his death.” Quinn worries her lower lip, feeling her stomach churn unpleasantly. “Things have been mostly good this past year. I’m afraid of messing that up. I’m afraid of being triggered again.”

“I understand being afraid, and while lithium isn’t a magical solution, you’ve responded really well to it, and I think combined with our sessions, it’s helped keep things stable,” Dr. Herrara says with no uncertainty. “Even if you have another episode, there are paths we can take to help manage and contain it. You’re not alone, Quinn, and you’ll get through this.”

Quinn offers her a small but pained smile. “I hope so.”

She hears her phone chime with a new text then, and she can’t stop the physical reaction that comes knowing it’s Rachel. Pressing her lips together, she fidgets in her seat, suppressing the urge to fish out her phone.

“Do you need to take that?” her doctor asks, raising a curious, knowing eyebrow.

Quinn shakes her head before explaining her latest text exchange with Rachel and her uncertainty about everything.

“I understand your reservations,” Dr. Herrara says with a thoughtful nod, “but don’t deny yourself a chance at happiness because you think you don’t deserve it. You are an amazing young woman, and you have a lot to offer.” She smiles warmly at Quinn then. “Of course, you should only do what makes you comfortable, but the last two months, you seemed determined to have Rachel in your life as a friend, and you were willing to face the inevitable challenges that would arise. I know a potential romance brings its own set of challenges for you, but when you think about it, the fundamental ones are the same regardless of whether Rachel is your friend or whether she’s something more.”

Quinn sits and lets her doctor’s words ruminate in her mind for a bit, contemplating and testing their truth out. She thinks she might be right though. Having Rachel in her life, regardless of the nature of their relationship, has the potential to throw Quinn off balance. It’s not Rachel’s fault, of course. It’s Quinn’s… or rather, her illness.

Even so, the thought of pursuing something more with Rachel is both exciting and terrifying. But she thinks that maybe she should stop fighting it so damn much.


	9. How Can I Get Her Alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thursday, January 9, 2020**  
>  Rachel vents her frustration to Stephanie before a show.

Rachel sighs as she tosses her phone aside, frowning mildly at the way Quinn had completely diverted her from her initial plan. It had seemed so simple—invite Quinn to a nice, quiet, friendly dinner at her apartment where she might feel comfortable enough to talk a bit more about the past and her bipolar disorder—and yet, somehow, they are meeting at yet another restaurant where it will be all but impossible to discuss more personal matters.

“She’s so frustrating,” Rachel mutters under her breath, shaking her head as she gazes at her own perturbed expression in the vanity mirror of her dressing room.  

_But shes still so irresistible._

Rachel supposes that she should be happy that Quinn hadn’t outright refused her invitation. They’ll still be able to spend the evening together, but, “Apparently, she just doesn’t want to be alone with me,” she complains to her reflection.  

“You’re taking talking to yourself to a whole new level there, Lima,” Stephanie comments in amusement, and Rachel turns to see her in her usual position, casually leaning against her open doorframe.

Rachel sighs again, turning away. “Hello, Steph.”

Stephanie pushes off the frame and steps farther into the room, quietly closing the door behind her before she glides over to Rachel’s futon. “Is your cheerleader back to blowing you off again?” she queries gently as she gracefully sits down.

Rachel spins in her chair with a frown. “ _Quinn_ is not blowing me off,” she insists, frown deepening. “Well, not entirely.”

“But she _is_ the _she_ you were muttering to yourself about,” Stephanie correctly deduces.

Rachel nods reluctantly, feeling a pout settle stubbornly on her lips. “I offered to cook her dinner on Monday but she turned me down,” she admits a little sourly. She really has become a quite a good cook over the years, even though she usually only cooks for herself.

“Did she have other plans?” Stephanie asks, seemingly unconcerned by Rachel’s revelation. 

Rachel crosses her arms, huffing a bit. “No. We’re meeting at Ribalta instead.”

Stephanie’s eyebrows rise in mild surprise. “Oh?”

“Yes. Oh,” Rachel repeats. “I just…I don’t understand. If I offered to cook for you, you’d say _yes,_ wouldn’t you?”

Stephanie chuckles, which is highly inappropriate under the circumstances in Rachel’s opinion. “Well, yeah. But you know I never turn down a free meal.”

“Exactly!” Rachel exclaims, pointing a triumphant finger at Stephanie. “Quinn would apparently rather meet me in a crowded restaurant and pay outrageous prices than be alone with me for a friendly, home-cooked dinner!”

Stephanie’s chuckle from before transforms into an outright laugh. “Friendly? Oh, Rachel, honey, it’s me you’re talking to. You’ve already admitted that you’re attracted to the woman,” she reminds her, and Rachel opens her mouth to—well, not protest, obviously, but to at least reiterate that her attraction to Quinn is secondary in this case—but Stephanie holds up a hand to stop her. “And why wouldn’t you be?” she continues undeterred. “She’s a gorgeous, single lesbian. Hell, _I’m_ attracted to her,” she jokes, making Rachel scowl slightly, and Stephanie flashes a grin. “Your intentions aren’t strictly friendly, and you know it,” she points out, eyes twinkling with humor.

Rachel snaps her mouth closed, silently admitting that Stephanie is right. She’d practically told her as much when she’d gushed about her last not-date date with Quinn and how well it had gone. “But Quinn isn’t interested in a relationship right now, and I’m trying to respect that.”

Stephanie leans back against the futon, her easy smile slipping away as she studies Rachel. “Maybe…and I’m just throwing this out there,” she says with a wave of her hand, “but maybe the best way to do that wasn’t to invite her to your apartment, where you live alone, for an intimate dinner, with your bedroom right there.”

Rachel sucks in a quick, little breath, unable to prevent the vision of Quinn—wearing not much more than her cheerleading uniform—in Rachel’s bedroom, and more specifically, her bed, but she swiftly shakes it off. “I’ve invited my other friends to my apartment many times,” she defends. “You’ve been over, for heaven’s sake.”

Stephanie’s lips quirk into a small smile. “But you generally don’t want to sleep with any of us. And if you do, well, I’m flattered but you know I generally lean towards men.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to sleep with Quinn.”

A tawny eyebrow arches skeptically. “Really?”

Rachel sighs in defeat. “Fine. I don’t _only_ want to sleep with her. I do genuinely want to be her friend first,” she insists, meaning it, “and I want us to be able to talk…about all the things that she’s reluctant to talk about. I just thought we might be able to do that if we had some privacy, but we never seem to have any,” she laments, throwing out her arms in frustration.

Stephanie tilts her head thoughtfully, her expression shifting into one of silent expectation, and Rachel’s eyes widen. 

“Oh,” Rachel breathes in sudden understanding. “Oh, she’s…” she trails off sadly, nodding. “I told her I’d wait until she was ready, and she obviously isn’t, is she? That’s why she keeps making certain that we’re never alone.”

Stephanie shrugs.  “I mean, I don’t know her, obviously. I only know what you’ve told me, which I suspect still isn’t everything,” she says mildly, giving Rachel a knowing look that causes her to glance away.

She’d given Stephanie only the most abbreviated, G-Rated version that she could conceive of to relay the information that seemed most pertinent to their current relationship. She hadn’t told Stephanie that Quinn is bipolar since she still doesn’t fully understand what that means for Quinn, but she had confided that Quinn had something of a breakdown in college that caused her to drop off the grid, so to speak—that and a complicated past that she’s still working through.

“But it seems to me like she’s still pretty skittish when it comes to you,” Stephanie continues. “If you hadn’t told me about your mutual ex, I’d think it was the two of you that had had a thing in high school instead of you both wanting the same guy,” she muses, shaking her head. “Especially since it turns out neither one of you are exactly straight.”  

Rachel swallows thickly, shaking her head a those butterflies flutter back to life in her belly. “We didn’t. I’m not sure that Quinn even questioned her sexuality until she was out of Lima. And I know that I didn’t. I never recognized my infatuation with her for what it was until after I kissed a girl and liked it,” she confesses with a wry smile.

“And now you have another chance,” Stephanie says softly. “I get it, but you haven’t really dated very much since things went south with Riley,” she reminds Rachel, frowning over the name of Rachel’s ex. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The _again i_ s implied.

“I appreciate that, Steph. I do,” Rachel assures her, “but I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing with Quinn.”

_Well, mostly._

_More or less._

_Okay, maybe not, but,_ “I’ve been given this unexpected opportunity to…to find out what Quinn and I could really be to each other. I already have too many regrets when it comes to her and all of the things I didn’t do or didn’t know that I should have. I need to see this through, even if it means I get my heart broken again. I just…I have to be more patient with her, is all,” she decides, nodding determinedly.

Stephanie offers a supportive smile.  “Or…you could try actually telling her that you’re attracted to her.”

“How is that being patient?” Rachel asks wildly, eyes widening.  Honestly, that is a horrible idea!

“It’s being honest,” Stephanie corrects gently. “It’s giving Quinn the chance to tell you if she thinks you could ever be more than friends instead of driving yourself crazy with _what ifs_.”

Rachel shakes her head, dragging her lower lip between her teeth. “But _what if_ she says there isn’t?” she counters in small voice. 

Stephanie shrugs sadly. “Do you really want to be her friend, Rachel? Would that be enough if it’s all she wants?”

Rachel drops her gaze to the floor, silently asking herself that same question again. “I want her in my life,” she vows, knowing it to be true. She’d had six years of not having Quinn Fabray as an active part of her life, and she’d felt the absence of her like a phantom ache that she could never accurately describe until Quinn was standing right there in front of her, ripping the invisible scab open again. Lifting her eyes back to Stephanie, Rachel draws in a determined breath. “Even if we’ll only ever be friends.”

“Then maybe that’s your answer,” Stephanie offers sagely. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be patient with Quinn, but not telling her that you’re harboring less than platonic feelings for her seems like it might cause problems in the long run, especially if you’re telling her you only want to be her friend while you’re looking at her like you want to strip her naked.”

“I do not do that,” Rachel protests, frowning. She doesn’t think she does anyway.

Stephanie grins a little. “Sure you don’t, Lima,” she needles. “Anyway, whatever you decide, I’ve still got your back,” she promises, “and I hope it works out for you.”

Licking her lips, Rachel nods again. “So do I, Stephanie. So do I.”


	10. Firework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, January 13, 2020**  
>  Surprises pleasant and not so pleasant abound when Quinn and Rachel go on their second not-date date.

**QUINN:** There’s something to be said for the biting cold of a January night in New York City, Quinn thinks. It stops her from being in her head so much because she’s mainly focusing on trying to stay warm. Of course, a measure of her attention is still fixated on Rachel, who is currently walking beside her as they make the short walk from Ribalta to the Strand. Rachel looks amazing tonight, dressed in tight, blue jeans with tall, black, high-heel boots, and Quinn has a hard time keeping her eyes from wandering down to Rachel’s legs.

Quinn told herself she would let whatever happened tonight just happen, but just because she isn’t actively fighting against herself every five seconds anymore, doesn’t make Quinn any less nervous. She doesn’t really know where things stand or if she should even attempt to cross any lines of friendship. There are so many unknowns.

But despite Quinn’s uncertainty, dinner had been enjoyable—the food delicious and the company even better. Although, there’s no denying that there was a kind of tension throughout it, both she and Rachel unconsciously skirted the edges of flirtation several times before seemingly realizing it and reining it back in.

It still all feels a little surreal to her.

 **RACHEL:** With every click of her boots against the pavement, Rachel silently berates herself for letting her entire dinner with Quinn pass without taking Stephanie’s advice to be honest about her more-than-friendly feelings. But, well, it was just so nice to see Quinn, looking casual and relatively relaxed for a change. Rachel hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of her from the moment she’d walked into Ribalta with her hair pinned up, wearing a black sweater, slacks, and ankle high boots under a long, variegated coat.

Rachel had gotten to the restaurant first—and okay, possibly twenty minutes early—and secured them a table for two along the wall. Of course, the tables in Ribalta aren’t what anyone could call private, being spaced close enough together that you might as well be having a conversation with the strangers at the table next to you. She really hadn’t thought that out thoroughly before suggesting it, but the food was excellent and the wait staff friendly. Still, it hadn’t seemed the best setting to make any intimate confessions.

She somehow doubts the Strand will provide her with a better opportunity.

The store is just a short walk from the restaurant, and it’s open until ten-thirty tonight, so they have plenty of time to browse the shelves. Maybe Rachel will even manage to find her courage somewhere amidst the aisles and confess her attraction to Quinn—although she has the distinct feeling that Quinn is already aware of it but choosing not to address it.

Rachel reaches the door first, reluctantly pulling her hand out of her coat pocket to tug it open and hold it for Quinn. Turning, she uses the opportunity to rake her gaze over Quinn again, admiring the way her current hairstyle shows off her elegant neck and strong jawline. It’s one of the few things that that Rachel can remember appreciating about the severe Cheerio ponytail back in high school.

“After you,” she offers with a grin, barely biting back the urge to add ‘my lady’ to the invitation as she gestures for Quinn to enter first.

 **QUINN:** She smiles and ducks her head as she murmurs a soft “thank you,” Rachel’s gesture making her feel warm all over before she even steps inside. Once she makes it through the small entryway that keeps some of the cold air out of the store, Quinn’s quick to return the favor, opening the second door for Rachel.

That earns Quinn a tiny laugh and a happy smile from Rachel before she thanks her and makes her way into the store, Quinn right behind her. The second she makes her way inside, Quinn takes in the seemingly endless stacks of bookcases that fill the first and second floors, and she feels a small trill of excitement. There are so many books, and she can’t wait to see what treasures she might find.

The store is surprisingly quiet tonight—only a dozen or so customers appear to be on the first floor—although, there are undoubtedly more out of Quinn’s sight, hidden in the long aisles between bookcases. Still, it’s nice to know they’ll be able to take their time and peruse the shelves without the added stress of being in a crowded space.

There are mostly gift items on the tables and along the walls at the front of the store, but there are a few tables of books, and Quinn gravitates toward the display of Modern Classics that’s right in front of her and Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** The moment Quinn enters the Strand, her face lights up like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Rachel is captivated—well, more captivated than usual. Green flecks suddenly dominate sparkling hazel eyes as they take in the seemingly endless supply of books, and something shifts and settles within Rachel at the sight, certain that she’d been right to suggest coming here.

There’s something so beautifully open and eager in Quinn’s expression right now, and Rachel can only recall catching the briefest glimpses of it in their youth. So much of her memory of Quinn is mired in the sadness and muted anger that had been wrapped around her like a cloak through high school, and so many of their interactions then had been rife with drama and life-altering pronouncements that had been far too heavy for their young shoulders to carry.

So Rachel clings even harder to the rare moments like this—the bright-eyed, pink-cheeked, smiling Quinn Fabray. She wants so very much to collect more of these moments and keep them forever. Her mind immediately begins to conjure up ideas of how she might accomplish that, and her heart trips over itself in the effort to send her rapidly heating blood to every inch of skin to betray just how affected she is by the thought of making Quinn happy.

Thankfully, Quinn’s gaze is currently glued to the table in front of them, so Rachel has a moment to temper her infatuation. She can feel herself perched on the razor’s edge, conscious of how quickly she could fall back into being that girl who wanted everything too much, but that isn’t who she wants to be anymore, and it certainly isn’t what Quinn needs. Still, when Quinn drifts closer to the display, running her graceful fingers over a copy of _Middlesex_ , Rachel finds herself following the movement and staying close to Quinn’s side.

“I have the feeling you could get lost in here for days,” she muses, hearing the warm affection that colors her voice.

Quinn clearly does too, and her lips quirk up into a shy smile as she finally turns to look at Rachel again.

 **QUINN:** “I probably could,” she agrees, unable to hide how happy she is right now as she gazes at Rachel.

And the fact that her happiness was undoubtedly a factor in Rachel suggesting they come here tonight isn’t lost on Quinn. Although, she doesn’t quite know what to do with that realization. All she knows is that it seems to magnify her own happiness, and it’s a feeling she so rarely experiences around anyone who isn’t Beth.

“I’m glad you thought of coming here,” Quinn adds, and Rachel smiles so sweetly at her words that Quinn can’t stop from falling that much more.

Biting her lower lip, Quinn turns her attention back to the books in front of them, knowing full well that she’s in trouble, but, well… she can’t deny that the possibilities are as exciting as they are scary.

But then she catches sight of a book that she read many times over in her youth, and without thinking, she picks up a copy. _The Little Prince_. Beth would absolutely love this, she thinks with a grin.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s approval has Rachel nearly preening, and she can’t stop the pleased smile from curving her lips as she gazes at Quinn. She doesn’t mention the list of other acceptable “friendly” activities that Quinn might like tucked away in her drawer at home, messy with Rachel’s inelegantly scrawled shorthand and littered with cross-outs and footnotes. After all, she’s planning to add to it to ensure that she never runs out of invitations to issue Quinn so that they can continue to spend time together.

Of course, that’s assuming that the inevitable confession of her attraction won’t suddenly throw them countless steps backward in the progress they’ve been making.

She watches as Quinn reaches for a book with an eager grin while her eyes going soft and her expression tender. Curious, Rachel angles her head to get a better look at the title.

“ _The Little Prince_ ,” she reads aloud, immediately pulling Quinn’s attention back to her. “I think I remember reading that once when I was younger,” she shares with a smile, though the suddenly guarded look in Quinn’s eyes gives her pause.

 **QUINN:** The sound of Rachel’s voice suddenly reminds her of the reality of the situation and just how many things she’s been holding back from Rachel.

Quinn doesn’t want to disrupt the good mood, but she knows she can’t continue keeping these parts of her life separated. Beth is an important person in Quinn’s life, and if she and Rachel are really going to be friends (or more), then it’s something Quinn has to tell her.

And it’s something she’s thought about and something she resolved to do at some point, but she just didn’t know how to bring it up. She realizes now is probably as good a time as any, and she prays this doesn’t ruin everything.

“This was one of my favorite books when I was younger,” she says in response to Rachel’s comment. She remembers feeling a lot like the little prince did when she was a child, not understanding adults and the way they looked at the world, but now that she’s older, she sees the story for the allegory it is. “But I lost my copy somewhere along the way,” she continues, choosing her words carefully, feeling the nerves start to creep in. “So I was thinking I should get a new book for myself, but I also want to buy another one.” And now she can’t stop the soft smile that forms, despite her nervousness. “For… for Beth.”

 **RACHEL:** For Beth.

It’s strange how easily those two small words seem to steal the breath from Rachel’s lungs more effectively than a punch to the gut.

In fact, they feel oddly similar to that, and Rachel absently presses a hand to her stomach to ease the sudden ache. Her smile slips from her face, and there’s nothing that she can do to prevent it.

If Quinn wants to buy a book for Beth, it means that Quinn has been seeing Beth, and if Quinn has been seeing Beth, it means that she’s been seeing Shelby—or more accurately, Shelby has been seeing Quinn.

And of course, Rachel would never begrudge Quinn a relationship with the daughter she gave up—there’s a large part of Rachel that’s glad to discover that Quinn might have that chance—but the thought that Shelby has known where to find Quinn for God knows how long…

Not that they’re close. Not that they’ve ever been close.

When they do talk, it’s typically short and tense and filled with the expected niceties, admiring one another from a distance even after all these years. And really, Shelby would have no reason to think Quinn Fabray would be all that important to Rachel, even if she does know they’d been former classmates and kind of friends, but Shelby has mentioned letting Beth see Noah in the past, so if she hasn’t mentioned the same of Quinn…

Quinn doesn’t (didn’t) want anyone to know.

Rachel is aware of this already, but it still hurts—and she still doesn’t have all of the answers she craves. She wonders if Shelby does and kind of hates the idea that her birth mother might be privy to any part of Quinn’s past that Rachel hasn’t been allowed to learn about yet.

“You’ve been in touch with Beth?” Rachel asks as mildly as she can manage.

Quinn’s eyes grow even more troubled as she nervously drags her lower lip between her teeth.

 **QUINN:** The way Rachel’s smile falls and her eyes shine with hurt makes it plain as day that Quinn just pulled the rug out from under Rachel’s feet, and she feels her stomach twist unpleasantly. And the way Rachel asks her question, trying to appear unaffected but failing miserably—her eyes give her away—makes Quinn feel even worse.

She has no idea what Rachel’s current feelings are about Shelby, but she suspects they’re complicated, and Quinn’s pretty sure she just further complicated things.

Biting her lower lip, Quinn takes in a breath before replying as gently as she can, “Yeah. She’s a big reason I moved to New Jersey. I only see her a few times a month, but it’s more than I ever thought I’d get. She’s… having her my life… it’s the most important thing.”

 **RACHEL:** It’s hard for Rachel to hold onto her resentment of Shelby in the face of Quinn’s obvious joy at being part of Beth’s life. She suddenly wishes that she’d made more of an effort over the years in that regard—maybe she would have crossed paths with Quinn sooner.

As for Quinn—Rachel can’t deny that there’s still a prickle of irritation that rears its ugly head every time she’s presented with a reminder that Quinn had gone to such lengths to disappear from everyone’s lives. They really do need to talk—about those missing years and so many other things—because Rachel’s supply of patience has always been somewhat limited.

Nevertheless, Rachel nods slightly at Quinn’s revelation, offering her a small smile. “I’m happy that you’re able to see her, Quinn,” she says earnestly, and Quinn returns her smile.

Drawing in a breath, Rachel glances away just enough to not be looking directly into Quinn’s eyes when she quietly asks, “Does Shelby know? About your…diagnosis?”

 **QUINN:** The relief that settles over her at Rachel’s seeming acceptance disappears almost as quickly as it came with Rachel’s next question.

Quinn really doesn’t like talking about her bipolar disorder, but she knows it’s important to do so sometimes with her friends so that they can better understand. Still, that doesn’t stop the tension that settles in her gut as her gaze darts around, making sure that no one is eavesdropping.

Satisfied that no one is, she turns her eyes back to Rachel, who is still isn’t really meeting her gaze. “She knows,” Quinn confirms just as quietly. “One of her stipulations for letting me see Beth is that I continue treatment, which I am. And my visits are always supervised.” There’s a bit of shame that bubbles up at admitting that out loud, but the alternative is enough to keep her pride in check.

 **RACHEL:** It stings to hear that Shelby knows about Quinn’s bipolar disorder. Rachel wonders when Quinn will finally trust her enough to confide in her, and she bites back the urge to ask her because—once again—this isn’t the place. It’s never the place, and Rachel is beginning to understand that Quinn is purposely avoiding being alone with her so that she can avoid that very conversation.

Swallowing thickly, Rachel nods again, albeit a little jerkily, before plastering a smile on her face. “Good,” she murmurs. “That’s good.”

At Quinn’s deepening frown, Rachel realizes how that probably sounded. “I mean…it’s good that Shelby knows everything and still lets you see Beth,” she’s quick to explain, knowing from Quinn’s closed off expression that this conversation has the potential to go badly—especially when all Rachel wants to do is ask Quinn if they’re ever going to talk about her bipolar disorder and what it means instead of Rachel having to pull every little bit of information out of her.

Shaking her head, Rachel sighs. “You should definitely buy the book for Beth. And we should just,” she lifts her hand, gesturing to the endless shelves, “enjoy the store,” she suggests, tramping down her disappointment at all the secrets that Quinn is apparently still keeping.

Maybe the distraction will help lessen the uncomfortable tension that’s suddenly hanging thick in the air between them again.

 **QUINN:** She presses her lips together and furrows her brow as she looks at Rachel searchingly. Quinn’s not stupid. She can tell Rachel is upset, despite efforts to make it seem otherwise, and Quinn hates that she’s somehow made Rachel feel that way.

But she’ll never apologize for Beth or how important she is to Quinn, and she knows she had to tell Rachel the truth sooner or later.

Letting out a soft sigh, Quinn picks up a second copy of _The Little Prince_ and hugs both books against her chest, deciding they should do as Rachel suggested—enjoy the store, and in doing so, hopefully find a way to enjoy the rest of their evening together.

“Is there anything in particular you’re interesting in getting?” Quinn asks as they start walking toward the shelves in the back of the store, trying to decide which aisle they should go down first.

 **RACHEL:** She finds herself smiling a little at Quinn’s question. While it’s true that Rachel has been here a few times—the curiosity of checking out the famed 18 miles of books being what initially drew her—they’re really only here tonight because she’d thought that Quinn might enjoy it. The only thing in the store that Rachel is particularly interested in getting is Quinn—well, getting Quinn to open up to her at least.

She’s not about to tell Quinn that.

Not yet.

Shrugging, Rachel glances at Quinn. “Not particularly. I’m content just to browse. Though I do tend to gravitate toward the performing arts books,” she admits with a sheepish grin.

This is obviously no surprise to Quinn if the indulgent smile and short shake of her head is any indication.

 **QUINN:** “I do read my fair share of nonfiction, so performing arts sounds good to me,” Quinn replies agreeably, hoping that if Rachel is able to find something on the shelves she likes, it will distract her from whatever lingering unpleasantness she might be feeling.

The Strand’s performing arts books are split into two sections—Music & Dance and Film & Drama—which are situated right next to each other.

“Which one would you like to explore first?” Quinn asks, gesturing to the two aisles in front of them.

 **RACHEL:** Moistening her lips, Rachel considers their options, conscious of the fact that, regardless of what she’d said, Quinn would have probably wandered off toward the fiction or the classics if left to her own devices. And really, Rachel would have been happy to follow her, but Quinn is attempting to accommodate her preferences, so Rachel will let her.

“This one,” she decides, moving in the direction of the Film & Drama section because she has a feeling those might be more to Quinn’s interest.

Quinn nods and follows her down the aisle, which happens to be empty of any other customers at the moment. She seems content to browse the numerous plays and biographies that line the shelves, and Rachel does the same, but she can’t seem to stop casting glances in Quinn’s direction, surreptitiously watching her slide books off the shelf with reverence as she continues to cradle her copies of _The Little Prince_ close to her heart with her left hand.

Or perhaps not so surreptitiously. When Quinn looks up from reading the back of the book currently in her hand to catch Rachel’s eyes on her, Rachel can feel her cheeks heat, and she smiles a little shyly, feeling even warmer when Quinn smiles back.

 **QUINN:** She can feel Rachel watching her, and it’s so distracting that Quinn has trouble focusing on the back cover copy she’s attempting to read. She wonders what’s going through Rachel’s mind when she looks at her, and her pulse quickens at the idea that Rachel thinks about her at all.

The smile Rachel offers her when Quinn finally looks her way again is infectious. It reminds her a little of the smiles they shared during Rachel’s birthday dinner, only this time, Quinn’s bearings are a bit steadier.

But that tension is back—a nervous sort of excitement, barely tempered by Quinn’s own fear—and Quinn isn’t sure how to ease it or if she should even try. All she knows is that no one has ever looked at her the way Rachel is looking at her right now.

 **RACHEL:** Wrong time, wrong place.

The words are playing on repeat inside Rachel’s head, but it’s getting harder to heed them. Her emotions are barely settled from finding out that Shelby and Beth have been a part of Quinn’s life, and she still feels like she’s walking on eggshells, not sure which questions will send Quinn’s walls flying up and which answers Quinn will willingly give her.

And then there’s the way Quinn is looking at her now—like she’s not sure whether to turn and run or surge forward and…

Rachel’s stomach dips because it’s not an entirely unfamiliar expression. There had been a few times back in school when Quinn had looked at her almost exactly this way. She wants to know if it means what she thinks it might—now that she has the benefit of self-awareness.

Straightening her shoulders, Rachel takes a determined step forward, holding Quinn’s gaze. “Quinn, I…” she begins, trailing off uncertainly when Quinn draws in a quick, little breath. “I know you’re probably still not ready to talk about all the things I want us to talk about,” she rushes out, watching Quinn’s eyes widen in surprise, “but I think you should know…I’m…”

“Rachel?”

She nearly groans at the untimely interruption, her head whipping to the side to glare at whoever had just turned the corner and entered the aisle to intrude on their privacy. Her own eyes widen in surprise, and she stumbles back a step away from Quinn.

“Riley,” she breathes, silently cursing her luck.

A faint smile appears on Riley’s lips as she moves closer, a book curled under her arm. “Hey. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you,” Riley says tactfully, her green eyes darting from Rachel to Quinn with barely concealed curiosity.

Rachel nods distractedly, her own eyes cutting back to Quinn and the mild frown that’s currently pulling down the corners of her mouth as she studies the other blonde.

“Um…yeah. It has,” Rachel mutters.

They might be working on reestablishing a friendship, but thus far, it has only involved relatively safe and blessedly impersonal texts and emails to relay apologies and amends and general well-wishes for their mutual success and happiness in future, very separate endeavors. Actually seeing Riley again face-to-face—and tonight, of all times!—is more than a little disconcerting.

Plastering on a (fake) smile, Rachel goes through the polite motions of making an introduction. “Riley, this is,” she glances at Quinn, her smile wavering slightly as she utters the words, “my friend, Quinn.” Unreadable hazel eyes dart back to her at the description, and Rachel continues on, though the introduction in thoroughly redundant at this point. “Quinn, this is Riley.”

 **QUINN:** She almost forgets to breathe when Rachel takes a step toward her and starts trying tell her something that has the butterflies in her stomach ready to take flight. She hopes and fears the words that might come, but then they’re interrupted.

Just as Quinn looks up, she hears Rachel breathe the name of her ex, and she feels an inexplicable wave of jealousy. Riley is gorgeous, standing just an inch taller than Quinn, and her bright green eyes look at Rachel and Quinn curiously.

The tension radiating off Rachel during her brief exchange with Riley is palpable, and Quinn’s lips curve down, feeling a measure of protectiveness start to mix in with that jealousy.

As Rachel goes on to introduce Riley to Quinn, she can’t help but wonder if Rachel ever mentioned her to Riley, although she can’t imagine what she would have even said—if it was even worth noting.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Quinn says with a saccharine smile that doesn’t at all reach her eyes as she extends a hand for Riley to take.

Riley raises a single eyebrow, and it practically rivals Quinn’s as she grabs a hold of Quinn’s hand. “Likewise,” she replies, giving her hand a firm shake, and Quinn decides then and there that she really doesn’t like this woman.

 **RACHEL:** ‘Oh my God,’ Rachel thinks, her mouth practically falling open as she takes in the sight of Riley and Quinn standing right next to one another as they exchange a terse handshake. ‘I really do have a type.’

She’d never consciously realized how many similar features Riley has in common with Quinn until this very moment—blonde hair, eyes that occasionally glitter very green, strong jawlines, that one artfully arched eyebrow—and she really hopes that neither one of them notice the slight resemblance now, especially Quinn.

Riley lets go of Quinn’s hand, her lips curling into an inquisitive smile. “Have you known Rachel long?” she asks with deceptive innocence—her jealousy was one of the reasons that she and Rachel had broken up, after all, and not just the professional variety. “Because I don’t think I remember her mentioning you before.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and her mouth opens to answer, but Rachel is quick to intervene. “Quinn and I went to high school together. We…fell out of touch for a few years and have only just renewed our friendship.”

Rachel ignores the way Quinn is frowning at her again. What else was she supposed to say?

Seemingly satisfied by that answer, Riley nods. “That’s nice,” she says, but it’s hardly more than a reflexive platitude.

Her gaze comes back to rest on Rachel, and there’s a glimmer of wistfulness there. “I don’t mean to intrude. But I saw you as I was passing by and wanted to say hello,” she explains. “And I also wanted to thank you for pointing me in the direction of that audition.”

“Oh,” Rachel murmurs, remembering the slightly aged-up musical adaptation of _Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist_ that a friend of Alan’s had written and is in the process of taking to workshop. Rachel had merely texted Riley several weeks ago to let her know about the auditions, thinking that she might be a good fit. “It went well, then?” she asks politely.

Riley’s smile turns a little smug. “You could say that. I got the lead,” she announces proudly, holding up the book that she’s carrying that Rachel now sees is a copy of that very same novel, “and if everything goes well and we get enough backers, you might just have some box office competition next season.”

“I look forward to it,” Rachel responds with a smile, genuinely happy that Riley might finally get her big break. Though their romance had been disastrous, the friendship that preceded it had been authentic.

“Thank you, Rachel,” Riley tells her sincerely, reaching out to briefly touch Rachel’s shoulder in an overly familiar gesture. Rachel can almost feel Quinn grow tense beside her.

Shaking her head, Rachel dismisses the gratitude. “As you said, I merely pointed you in the right direction. You did the rest. I’m glad you got the part,” Rachel offers sincerely.

Riley ducks her head a bit, reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she says again. “I should probably get going though. It’s a long ride back to Queens, as I’m sure you remember.”

Rachel quickly glances over at Quinn, who’s still frowning with her arms crossed over the books against her chest. Rachel clears her throat before admitting that, “Yes. I recall.”

“I’ll text you soon,” Riley promises with a grin, letting her voice drop into the husky overtones that Rachel remembers from their time together.

Riley finally acknowledges Quinn again with a slight nod. “It was nice meeting you, Quinn,” she repeats, though it hardly sounds sincere.

 **QUINN:** The more Rachel and Riley talk, Quinn starts imagining what they would have looked like as a couple, and it makes her stomach twist unpleasantly. This woman knows a part of Rachel that she doesn’t and never has, and even though Quinn knows it’s not rational and that the circumstances of their falling out of touch were out of Quinn’s control, it bothers her.

And in some ways, looking at Riley is like looking in the mirror, and Quinn isn’t sure she likes what she sees. She recognizes the jealousy underlying this interaction, having been guilty of that herself in the past. Quinn is almost positive Riley wouldn’t be as flirtatious in her promise to text Rachel if Quinn hadn’t been standing there.

Yeah, Quinn definitely doesn’t like Riley.

“Likewise,” she echoes back to Riley’s disingenuous parting pleasantry, pursing her lips in distaste as she goes, annoyed at the interruption, but even more annoyed at herself for being so affected by it all.

 **RACHEL:** Riley glances back over her shoulder when she reaches the end of the aisle, offering Rachel one final half smile before she disappears around the corner. Rachel feels a certain sense of relief at having navigated the unexpected reunion in a (mostly) mature, respectful way. She just wishes it had happened at literally any other time than the moment when she’d finally mustered up the courage to confess her romantic intentions to Quinn.

Alone again—relatively speaking—Rachel hazards a glance at Quinn and takes in the pursed lips and generally annoyed expression on her face, and her stomach knots with tension.

“I’m so sorry, Quinn,” she rushes out, beginning to fidget nervously with the edges of her coat. “I obviously had no idea that Riley would show up here tonight. That certainly isn’t how I intended for you to meet her.” Quinn’s eyebrow inches up again, and Rachel inhales quickly. “Not that I intended you to meet her,” she quickly amends, frowning even more when her brain catches up to her mouth. “Although there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have. I just didn’t think there’d ever be an opportunity…and I’m just going to stop talking now,” she finishes lamely, barely resisting the urge to turn around and hide her heated face against the shelf behind her.

This is so far from how she wanted tonight to go.

 **QUINN:** She feels her annoyance dissipate at the sight of Rachel’s obvious discomfort, and her heart goes out to Rachel. As irritating as that unexpected encounter with Riley was for Quinn, she can only imagine how awkward that must have been for Rachel.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says with a slight shake of her head. “The universe has an interesting sense of humor, that’s all.” Her lips curve up into a wry smile then, thinking that taking the raincheck on dinner at Rachel’s apartment hadn’t really prevented any uncomfortable moments—instead they’ve come in different packages.

 **RACHEL:** “You can say that again,” Rachel mumbles dejectedly.

First the Shelby and Beth bombshell and then Riley—it’s like the universe is purposely throwing obstacles into her path to keep her from getting closer to Quinn. But even as she thinks it, Rachel knows that isn’t entirely true. The fact that Quinn had told her about Beth tonight without any prompting is proof that she’s (very, very) slowly beginning to trust Rachel with some of the more personal details of her life. That has to mean something.

As thin as Rachel’s patience is being stretched, apparently it’s been the right strategy with Quinn. The knowledge is mostly encouraging, but she can’t deny the tiny twinge of disappointment that she needs to stay the course when all of her instincts are screaming at her to push forward.

“I’m still sorry that she had to interrupt our evening,” Rachel says honestly, hoping that Riley’s interruption won’t end up cutting her time with Quinn short.

 **QUINN:** ‘Me too,’ she thinks silently, but manages to catch herself from actually saying it out loud. “It’s okay,” Quinn says instead, even though there’s still some lingering unpleasantness on her end. Her jealousy is something she’s been trying to work on, but sometimes it gets the better of her, and unfortunately, something about Riley managed to get under Quinn’s skin almost immediately.

She hopes she won’t be having any more run-ins with Riley, but it sounded like Rachel intends to stay in touch with her. A very unwanted thought springs up then against Quinn’s own volition—what if Rachel and Riley rekindle their romance—and it has her stomach twisting in knots. After all, how many times did Rachel go back to Finn, even though they were fundamentally incompatible for the long run?

Quinn drags in a shaky breath then as a familiar wave of guilt crashes over her at thoughts of Finn. She blinks a few times, and notices Rachel looking at her with concern.

“Sorry,” Quinn murmurs with a self-deprecating shake of her head, trying to focus on the present moment. But instead of just changing the subject as if nothing had happened as she would normally try to do, she quietly admits to Rachel, “My mind sometimes wanders to places I’d rather it not go.”

 **RACHEL:** One moment, Quinn is there with Rachel, fully present and reassuring her that Riley’s appearance isn’t an issue, and the next, her eyes grow hazy and distant and her breathing ragged. It’s a little scary to witness—but just as quickly as it happens, Quinn comes back to herself, apologizing for the odd moment.

Rachel can’t help wondering where Quinn’s mind had taken her to cause such an obvious physical reaction.

She opens her mouth to ask just that, but the shadow of vulnerability in Quinn’s eyes—far too similar to shame for Rachel’s liking—transforms the words on her tongue into something else entirely.

“You can talk to me if you need to,” she offers gently, reaching out to lightly rest an encouraging hand on Quinn’s arm. “I want to be here for you in whatever way you’ll let me, Quinn, even if it’s just to hold your hand whenever your thoughts wander to those places. I wish you would let me,” she pleads quietly.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s touch and the care shining out from brown eyes settles Quinn somewhat, while simultaneously reawakening some of those butterflies in her belly, especially at the thought of getting to hold Rachel’s hand.

“Thanks,” she says, offering Rachel a small, appreciative smile. “I… I don’t really like to talk about it, but I appreciate that you’re willing to listen.”

 **RACHEL:** “I am,” Rachel reiterates, giving Quinn’s arm a gentle squeeze before reluctantly allowing her touch to fall away. “And…and I know it’s hard for you, but I want to know more about your life, Quinn. I want you to feel like you can tell me about things…like…like Beth,” she says carefully, seeing and hearing Quinn’s indrawn breath at the mention of her daughter.

“And I’m sorry if my initial reaction made you think that I was less than sincere about my genuine happiness that she’s back in your life again,” Rachel apologizes, holding Quinn’s gaze when hazel eyes meet hers curiously. “I promise you that was primarily about Shelby,” she admits with a self-deprecating grin. “Our relationship is still less than ideal.”

 **QUINN:** She winces slightly at Rachel’s mention of her strained relationship with Shelby. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about Beth sooner,” Quinn explains, offering her own sort of apology. “I remember things with you and Shelby being not so great in the past, and I didn’t know where things stood now. I didn’t want to upset you.”

Quinn’s done enough of that to Rachel, so she’s been trying to avoid doing so again. But given their complicated past and the way their various relationships intertwine, it’s inevitable. Quinn just hopes that they’ll be able to ride out those bumps in the road when they arise.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s explanation makes a certain kind of sense, but, “It upsets me more that you feel you need keep such huge parts of your life from me, regardless of your intentions,” she says, careful to keep her voice soft and understanding.

Even so, Rachel can feel the tension radiating off of Quinn, and she closes her eyes, drawing in a breath and shaking her head before once again meeting Quinn’s wounded expression.

“I appreciate that you want to spare my feelings, Quinn, but I don’t need you to protect me from all of the things that you think I can’t or shouldn’t have to deal with. I’d rather we be honest with one another and handle those things together.”

Even as she says it, Rachel recognizes that she’s been guilty of the same thing to a degree—but mostly because Quinn has thus far left Rachel struggling to navigate the murky waters of her bipolar disorder without providing her with a deeper understanding of exactly what she’s dealing with.

 **QUINN:** Great, just great. In the process of trying to spare Rachel’s feelings, she only upset her more. It figures though. It seems to be typical of Quinn’s efforts in general.

Fortunately, Rachel hasn’t grown completely frustrated with her (yet, Quinn reminds herself), and she tries to hold on to the last part of what Rachel said—together.

It holds a certain kind of promise, one that Rachel has made before, about wanting to keep Quinn in her life. But there’s still the uncertainty of just how this is all going to work out. Quinn guesses they’ll have to do it together.

“Okay,” she agrees with another small smile.

 **RACHEL:** She’s not naive enough to believe that their friendship (or whatever else develops) will suddenly be easy—she expects they’ll have missteps and misunderstandings and maybe even a heated argument or two down the line—but Rachel is still hopeful that maybe they can move forward from this moment without feeling like the smallest misstep will set off a landmine.

Warmed by Quinn’s smile and the hopefulness in her eyes, Rachel smiles in return and gives in to the irresistible urge to touch Quinn again, this time curling her fingers around Quinn’s forearm. The action brings her further into Quinn’s personal space, and she feels a familiar flutter come to life in her belly.

“It…it goes both ways, Quinn. I want to be honest with you too,” Rachel practically whispers, feeling the ripple of muscle under her touch as Quinn’s breath catches and her eyes begin to darken. “It’s…it’s difficult because I…I don’t know what you’re ready to talk about and what you aren’t,” she explains hesitantly, pausing to moisten her lips, “but I think you probably realize that I…”

Really want to kiss you, Rachel thinks unbidden as her gaze drops to somewhere in the vicinity of Quinn’s mouth.

“I really like spending time with you,” she finishes weakly, apparently still not quite brave enough to say what she really means.

This evening has proven to be emotional enough already.

 **QUINN:** She’s afraid to blink or breathe or even move as Rachel steps into her space, not wanting to miss anything Rachel might say or do.

The air between them is thick with tension, and when brown eyes lower to Quinn’s lips, God, she swears Rachel is going to kiss her. And it’s something she finds equal parts terrifying and exciting, but she’s still sticking with what she told herself before the night began—let whatever happens happen.

But then Rachel doesn’t do that at all, and Quinn doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved or disappointed.

“I like spending time with you too,” Quinn replies, searching Rachel’s eyes for a moment, wondering if, once again, it’s all been in her head.

 **RACHEL:** Disappointment strangles the fluttering in Rachel’s belly, twisting into something heavy and sour. She wants to slap herself for choking, especially when Quinn echoes her very safe, very platonic sentiment without any indication that she might be receptive to more.

And really, why would she be?

Quinn has outright told Rachel that she isn’t looking for a relationship right now. And even if she was, she’s breathtakingly gorgeous. She could have anyone that she wants. Maybe Quinn isn’t picking up on any of the signals that Rachel is certain she must be broadcasting because she simply doesn’t want to. Maybe what seems like flirtation to Rachel is only Quinn’s cautious attempt at being gracious and personable. After all, Quinn would know best what she wants and needs, and maybe that isn’t to have Rachel Berry pining and pushing for more than she’s able to give.

Maybe Rachel should just swallow down her attraction to Quinn and settle for being her friend. She’d meant what she’d said to Stephanie—she wants Quinn in her life, even if friendship the only way she can have her. Rachel needs to know that Quinn is happy and healthy and alive in this world. She can’t bear the thought of losing anyone else that she cares about.

Sighing, Rachel lets her hand fall away from Quinn’s arm and takes a step back, forcing a smile that feels too wide.

“I…I’m glad we feel the same way,” she says with a determined nod. “So we’ll…continue to spend time together, and talk about…things, and be honest with one another.” Well, mostly honest, if slightly less than forthright. “And you…you’ll tell me if you ever need anything…else,” she adds meaningfully, unable to keep herself from hoping Quinn might accept the unspoken invitation to ask for something more.

 **QUINN:** Her brow furrows in confusion, wondering why Rachel is being so careful with her words and what it is that she means when she tells Quinn to tell Rachel if she needs “anything else.”

But there is definitely some comfort Quinn gathers from Rachel’s declaration—her words warming Quinn in a way not many can. There is still a bit of worry that lingers though—that if things go sideways, Rachel will regret making such an effort to reconnect with her.

“I’ll try,” Quinn replies. She’s already told Rachel that talking isn’t easy, but her pride makes it even harder to ask for things, especially if she’s making herself vulnerable in the process.

 **RACHEL:** Sighing again, Rachel is forced to accept the fact that Quinn seems happy enough with the way things are between them right now. The mantra of ‘be patient and listen’ flows through her mind again, and if she’s really listening to Quinn—both what she’s saying and how she’s saying it—Rachel has to admit that Quinn obviously isn’t ready to be completely open with her.

“That’s all I can ask,” Rachel concedes, tramping down her disappointment.

She shoves her hands into her coat pockets and glances at the shelves around them. “So…do you want to keep browsing in this section? Or would you rather head off in search of the fiction?” she asks amenably. “I’m fairly certain that we won’t encounter any of my other exes hiding in the stacks,” she assures Quinn with a grin.

 **QUINN:** She raises an amused eyebrow, belying the flare of jealousy that sparks at the mention of Rachel’s exes. Quinn wonders how many there have been—if Rachel loved any of them—in the six years they were out of each other’s lives, but she’s not really willing to ask.

Instead she considers Rachel’s question before deciding, “Actually, I’d like to keep looking here a little longer. I want to see what books they have on Marilyn Monroe.”

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Quinn Fabray. I think you’re trying to sneak in some work on your evening off,” she accuses playfully, recalling that Quinn is managing a book on Arthur Miller—one of Marilyn’s exes.

Rachel has half a mind to suggest _Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox_ , which touches on Marilyn’s alleged lesbian tendencies, but she doesn’t know if the Strand currently has a copy in stock, and she certainly doesn’t want to mention that she knows of it only because Riley had owned a copy that she’d convinced Rachel to read. In any case, Rachel is certain that there are probably dozens of biographies a little further down the aisle.

 **QUINN:** “Guilty as charged,” she admits with a playful smile of her own. “Although, I don’t really think of it as work,” Quinn continues with a small shrug, glad that the uneasiness from earlier seems to have disappeared. “Sure, she was Arthur Miller’s wife and muse, but… I find her interesting in her own right.”

She and Rachel walk down the aisle, and Quinn scans the shelves, seeing if any books about Marilyn jump out at her. Even though she knows not to judge a book by its cover, it’s often the most interesting looking spine that grabs Quinn’s attention first.

An oversized hardcover with a pink spine is what wins out, and when Quinn pulls it off the shelf to take a closer look, she knows she’s found something pretty unique— _Dressing Marilyn: How a Hollywood Icon Was Style by William Travilla_. Filled with sketches, dress patterns, and photographs of Marilyn in costume, it speaks to both Quinn’s love of fashion and old Hollywood.

 **RACHEL:** Following Quinn down the aisle, Rachel idly peruses the shelves, even pausing to pull down a copy of _Ethel Merman: A Life_ , but she can’t deny that her attention is far more captivated by her companion. Under the guise of flipping through the book in her hands, Rachel observes Quinn, whose eyes dance across the books on the shelf as if she’s waiting for one of them in particular to call out to her. Apparently one of them does because long, elegant fingers reach out to carefully free a colorful hardcover from between its neighbors.

Rachel wonders what it was about that particular book that drew Quinn’s attention, and without even realizing it, she drifts closer to Quinn’s side, peaking around her shoulder to see photographs and sketches amidst the text.

“Did you find something you like?” she asks, pulling Quinn’s attention to her—only then realizing how close they’re standing.

 **QUINN:** She sucks in a breath when she turns her head to face Rachel, suddenly hyperaware of just how close they are, feeling warmth radiating off Rachel and settling somewhere low in Quinn’s belly.

Inquisitive brown eyes gaze up at Quinn through long lashes, and she unconsciously licks her lips. “I did,” she finally says in a soft voice, unable to look away.

 **RACHEL:** She’s completely transfixed by the movement of Quinn’s tongue across her lips, and Rachel’s eyes fall to them, staying to watch them form the words that fill the air between them with Quinn’s hushed, husky voice.

Her own breath catches, and she forcibly tears her gaze away from Quinn’s mouth only to find darkened hazel eyes studying her intently. Rachel feels such an acute sense of longing wash over her. “So did I,” she whispers.

 **QUINN:** All rational thought leaves her mind the moment Rachel whispers those three words, and Quinn is unable to stop herself from giving in to her deepest desire. She closes the short distance between them, gently pressing her lips against ones she’d only dreamed of kissing.

And then Rachel is kissing her back, and, oh, it’s so much better than what she’d ever imagined.

Hazel eyes flutter shut as butterflies take flight in Quinn’s belly, warmth rushing through her.

 **RACHEL:** Fireworks.

It’s all Rachel can think—all she can see—from the first press of Quinn’s soft lips against hers. Heat blossoms in her belly, and she barely suppresses a moan. She understands with blinding clarity just why every boy (and probably half the girls) had dreamed of kissing Quinn Fabray when they were younger.

Rachel wonders why she hadn’t, but now that she’s had a taste of what she was missing, she wants more. The fact that Quinn had made the first move—acted on the unspoken (now obviously mutual) attraction between them—makes Rachel bold. Pressing forward, she parts her lips to deepen the kiss, unconsciously sliding her free hand around Quinn’s waist.

 **QUINN:** She can’t stop the soft moan that escapes as Rachel deepens their kiss—every part of her body sings with pleasure. All Quinn knows is Rachel—the taste of her tongue, the warmth of her breath, and the feel of her hand on Quinn’s hip.

Her fingers itch to reach out and pull Rachel closer, but all Quinn can do is clutch the books in her arms against her chest as their lips and tongues move in perfect tandem.

 **RACHEL:** In the space of a few heartbeats, a fantasy plays out behind Rachel’s closed eyes of pressing Quinn back against the shelf behind them, dropping poor Ethel on the floor, and slipping both of her hands inside Quinn’s long coat and maybe under her sweater until she encounters warm, silken skin.

A few heartbeats later, it occurs to Rachel that her fantasy self is perhaps being a tad bit forward and that there’s something perfectly magical in this moment just the way it is. But, oh—the way Quinn is responding to her makes it so hard to keep her desire in check.

Rachel savors the taste and texture and touch of Quinn’s lips for another several heartbeats, eventually softening their kiss into a series of nips and pecks that gradually slow until she finally, reluctantly parts from Quinn.

Hazel eyes slowly flutter open, blinking dazedly as they drink Rachel in. Rachel’s tongue sneaks out to claim the lingering taste of Quinn from her lips before they curve into a shy, besotted smile.

“So…I should probably tell you now that I’m incredibly attracted to you,” she murmurs, as if Quinn hadn’t just discovered that fact first hand in the most incredible way possible.

 **QUINN:** Even though she suspected Rachel’s attraction, there was still a lingering doubt that it was all in her head, but actually hearing Rachel say it out loud makes it feel like she’s in some sort of wonderful dream.

“The feeling is very much mutual,” Quinn replies quietly, still somewhat dazed from the fact that Rachel Berry was just kissing her—her lips still tingle and her cheeks are flush.

But the blissful feeling doesn’t last, and soon Quinn’s fears coming roaring back into focus. She worries her lower lip, remembering what happened the last time she tried to spare Rachel’s feelings. Quinn doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but Rachel had said they should be honest with one another.

“I really do like you, Rachel,” Quinn begins, gazing at her intently. “But I’m… I’m not sure I’m ready for anything more.”

 **RACHEL:** The joy that Rachel feels at hearing Quinn’s confirmation that she is, in fact, attracted to Rachel dies a quick death at her next words. It’s nothing that Quinn hasn’t already told her, and it’s the very reason that Rachel had hesitated to express her own attraction, but that doesn’t stop her insides from twisting unpleasantly at actually hearing Quinn say it again after they’d just shared the most amazing kiss that Rachel has experienced in—well, possibly ever.

She sends a silent apology to Finn at the thought, but she thinks he’d understand. After all, he’d seen his own fireworks with Quinn once upon a time.

Rachel attempts to swallow down her hurt in the face of Quinn’s obvious apprehension, but she’s afraid that even her exceptional acting skills can’t completely mask her disappointment. Still, she forces herself to nod in understanding and offers Quinn a reassuring (if slightly sad) smile.

“I…I understand, Quinn,” she promises, letting her hand fall away from Quinn’s hip where it’s been resting. “You did warn me that you weren’t ready for a romantic relationship, and even though I find myself hoping that we might eventually be heading in that direction,” she confesses, hearing Quinn’s breath hitch a little at the revelation, “I promise that I’ll do my best to respect your wishes.”

It won’t be easy. Rachel still wants everything too much, and right now, what she wants is Quinn—not just physically but emotionally, and that’s the part that Rachel suspects Quinn is most reluctant to give.

“Although you may need to remind me of that from time to time,” Rachel admits with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not always the best with boundaries.”

 **QUINN:** She feels the absence of Rachel’s touch the moment she moves her hand, and guilt settles over Quinn as she takes in Rachel’s disappointment. But Rachel’s confession of hoping for an eventual romantic relationship with Quinn, despite the stop sign Quinn just held up makes her feel warmer than it has any right to.

Still, she has hurt Rachel. Again. Why can’t she ever get anything right?

“I’m sorry,” she says contritely. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I just couldn’t help myself, and… I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair to you.”

Quinn told herself to take baby steps with Rachel, but she’s pretty much done the opposite of that. She needs to pull on the reins before things go too far too fast.

“I’m not ready for a relationship right now, but I hope I can be one day.”

 **RACHEL:** The shadow of guilt in Quinn’s eyes breaks Rachel’s heart, and she instinctively reaches out to touch the back of Quinn’s hand where it rests against the books still held against her chest. “Hey, don’t apologize, okay?” she pleads, gently stroking her fingers across Quinn’s knuckles. “I wanted you to kiss me, even knowing we were skipping a lot of really important steps.”

Like talking about Quinn’s bipolar disorder or those missing years or Beth and Shelby or Rachel’s unfortunate dating history since Finn passed away.

“But it’s good that we’re talking about this now instead of talking around it,” she reasons, letting her hand fall back to her side once again as she gazes earnestly at Quinn. “It’s better for us to know exactly where we stand.”

There’s an unmistakable glint of remorse in Quinn’s eyes and maybe a hint of trepidation. Moistening her lips, Rachel reassures her that, “I meant what I said about wanting you in my life, Quinn. And even if…if you never feel ready to explore our mutual attraction beyond this moment, I’ll still want to be your friend.”

 **QUINN:** A part of Quinn can’t even believe that just a few moments ago, she was kissing Rachel Berry and that Rachel wanted it—still wants her—and that they’re standing here talking about what it all means.

Quinn never thought she’d get this chance, and she wants to seize it, but she knows it’s too soon. Rachel’s too important. She has to get it right.

And knowing that Rachel’s willing to be patient with her gives Quinn a measure of relief. It’s one less thing to stress about, although she’s sure she’ll still have her moments—afraid that if she waits too long, Rachel will have moved on to someone new (or old, like Riley).

“I want you in my life too,” she replies after a beat, gazing at Rachel meaningfully. “But I’m still a work in progress, and I want to be the best partner I can be in a relationship. I couldn’t be that right now, even though I wish I was.”

 **RACHEL:** A smile pulls at the edges of Rachel’s lips when Quinn says that she wants Rachel in her life. It eases some of that nagging worry inside of her that she might be pushing Quinn into spending time with her by sheer force of will. It wouldn’t be the first time that Rachel had allowed her own determination to run roughshod over someone else’s wishes.

“I think we’re all something of a work in process,” she muses with a gentle smile, thinking of her own occasionally troublesome habits that have ruined or nearly ruined more than one friendship and romance. She’s trying to be extra conscious of them now—to be patient and understanding when her instincts are begging her to throw herself at Quinn with serenades and freshly baked cookies delivered to her doorstep and vows of her undying devotion.

It’s too soon, and this—Quinn—is too important to her.

“I know you need to be comfortable with yourself before you can be comfortable with anyone else. It’s something I’ve had to work on too,” she confesses, knowing that for Quinn right now, it’s probably even more complicated. “Only you can know what’s best for you.”

And hopefully, eventually, Quinn might discover that what’s best for her includes Rachel and more of those amazing kisses.

 **QUINN:** Her lips curve up into a grateful smile, relieved at Rachel’s understanding. “Thank you for understanding,” Quinn says. “For being you.”

And really, there’s no one in this world quite like Rachel, and Quinn knows she’s lucky to have her in her life, especially after disappearing for six years. She hopes she can be someone worthy of Rachel’s time and energy, and hopefully (eventually), the best partner Rachel’s ever had.

 **RACHEL:** “Well, you can always count on me to be me,” Rachel replies with a wide smile, earning a light laugh from Quinn. She really loves the sound.

Only a few people have ever truly appreciated the unfiltered version of Rachel Berry in all her ambitious, dramatic glory, and surprisingly, Quinn is one of them. Oh, it hadn’t always been the case, of course, but Rachel had come to realize years ago that, somewhere along the way, Quinn had started to push Rachel toward chasing her dreams—the ones that didn’t include marrying Finn, in any case. But to hear Quinn thank her now, just for being herself…

‘I could fall in love with her so easily,’ Rachel realizes, her heart tripping at the knowledge that she’s already falling.


	11. Can’t Hold On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tuesday, January 14, 2020**  
>  Quinn confides in Kaitlyn in the aftermath of her kiss with Rachel.

Slender fingers run through the soft, gray fur of Piazza’s coat as Quinn’s eyes lose focus on the book in her left hand. She sighs and puts it down, realizing trying to read right now is a waste of time because she can’t stop thinking about Rachel—about their kiss, about the fact that Rachel is actually attracted to Quinn and wants to be with her, and all the obstacles standing in the way.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kaitlyn asks from the adjacent couch in their living room, looking up from her laptop to focus on Quinn.

She shakes her head, not really sure where to start.

“How was your time with Rachel last night?”

Quinn’s lips curve up into a small smirk. Her roommate has a knack for knowing exactly the right questions to ask. “Another rollercoaster,” she replies before lifting her gaze to meet Kailtyn’s. She sucks in a quick breath before quietly confessing, “I kissed her. And she kissed me back.”

Blue eyes widen in surprise. “You…?” Kaitlyn questions before those same eyes sparkle and she breaks out into a smile. “That’s great!”

Quinn worries her lower lip.

“Or… not?”

“I don’t know,” she replies with a furrowed brow. “I wanted it. I’ve… wanted it for so long. 10 years, at least,” she continues wistfully before feeling her mood dip into one of unease. “But I’m not ready for a relationship, especially not with Rachel. I can’t handle everything that would come with it—all the people from my past I’d have to face. Have to explain myself to.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Quinn shakes her head. “I do. They won’t understand. And they’ll be angry. I’m just not ready to deal with that.”

“If they were really your friends-”

“They weren’t, that’s the problem,” Quinn argues with a frown. “Rachel was the only one I considered a true friend—the only one I could trust. But it was messy because I harbored feelings for her.”

“Which she obviously returns.”

“Only because Finn isn’t around anymore.”

The second the words are out of Quinn’s mouth, she feels a stab of guilt and her chest tightens. Hazel eyes close, and Quinn lets out a shaky breath as her fingers still in soft fur.

Kaitlyn is quiet for a moment before saying words she’s repeated to Quinn many times in the past, “That’s not your fault. It was an accident.”

“They were going to get married,” she says, barely hearing Kaitlyn’s words, instead feeling her own pain intensify. “And the only reason Rachel can see me as an option is because he’s gone.” Quinn licks her lips, her guilt growing. “But I should have died… I should have died more than once.”

Quinn feels the couch she’s sitting on dip, and a warm hand encases her own. “But you didn’t,” comes the soft reply, and it’s only then that Quinn realizes she’s crying. “And I’m so glad you didn’t. And I know Rachel is too. I know it’s hard, Quinn, I do. But don’t deny yourself happiness, because you deserve it.”

“I don’t,” she sniffs, abandoning Piazza’s coat and wiping at the tears that have escaped.

“You do,” Kaitlyn insists, tightening her hold on Quinn’s other hand, and Piazza takes that moment to climb onto Quinn’s lap, nuzzling into her belly. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you do. And I think Rachel could make you really happy. I mean, she already does, doesn’t she?”

Quinn lets out a shaky breath, attempting to gather her composure as she opens her eyes once more. “She does… but…”

“No buts,” she interrupts. “But maybe try going back to baby steps with Rachel. Relatively speaking, that is.”

She can hear the mirth in Kaitlyn’s voice, and it adds a measure of levity to the moment. “Easier said than done,” Quinn replies, pain and guilt still clinging to her no matter hard she tries to shake them. “But I’ll try.”


	12. Sweet Little Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Wednesday, January 29, 2020**  
>  Rachel has lunch with an inquisitive Kurt.

Café Blossom on Carmine Street is vastly different from its older sister in Chelsea. The beige brick and mortar interior is starkly reminiscent of an old, industrial warehouse that’s been prettied up with hardwood floors and decorated with colorful photographs of flowers. Actually, it reminds Rachel a little of the loft that she and Kurt had shared when they’d first moved to New York—but nicer. The square marble tables and skeletal metal chairs sharply contrast the warm, dark wood that features in the original restaurant and gives the café a decidedly modern, if slightly colder, feel, but aesthetic differences aside, the café is every bit as vegan as the one that she and Quinn had patronized just a month ago, only this time, her definitely-not-a-date ‘date’ is Kurt.

The fact that he’d actually suggested coming here—to a _vegan_ restaurant—for lunch of his own volition, even offering to pay, is what tells Rachel that he’s reached the end of his patience with her persistent evasion of him (and all of her friends who are not aware of Quinn) over the last several months. She’s reluctantly accepted that she has to bite the bullet and spend some quality time with her best friend.  

Rachel tugs off her gloves as she follows the hostess to a tiny table for two tucked into a corner at the rear of the restaurant where Kurt is already seated, perusing the menu. He glances up when she reaches the table.  “Well, hello stranger,” he drawls, mild irritation underlying the humor in his tone as he stands to greet her.

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Hello, Kurt,” she says before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. She pulls away with a polite smile as she unbuttons her coat, shrugging it off her shoulders as Kurt moves to help her out of it completely. He’s become quite the gentleman since he’d started working for _Vogue_ full time, rubbing elbows with fashion bigwigs and models on a daily basis.

“How are you? How’s Blaine?” she asks, genuinely interested, as she watches Kurt drape her coat over the back of the chair before pulling it out for her.

“We certainly can’t complain,” he answers good-naturedly, waiting for Rachel to sit before he moves to reclaim his own seat. “I’m happily diving into the spring fashions for the magazine,” he informs her with a grin, “and Blaine is on his second callback for an original workshop that’s supposed to begin in the spring.”

“That’s wonderful,” Rachel gushes, smiling at the good news. She really hope Blaine gets the role. His success in the theater has been a slow, painful process—slower than Rachel’s had been—and she can’t help but feel for him.

“Fingers crossed,” Kurt responds, making a show of crossing his own. “The more pressing question, Ms. Berry, is how are _you_?” he asks playfully.  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d been permanently imprisoned in the Imperial Theatre, chained to your makeup chair by an evil production manager,” he teases, but Rachel can’t miss the hurt feelings that bubble under the surface of the joke.

She shakes her head at his dramatics. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen me,” she argues, picking up her menu. She can feel Kurt’s speculative gaze heavy on her, but she stubbornly refuses to meet it again, afraid that he might see the guilt shining in her eyes over the huge secret that she’s been keeping at Quinn’s request. This is exactly why she’s been avoiding these one-on-one situations as much as possible.

“Not since New Year’s Eve,” Kurt informs her, “and we had a roomful of people between us for most of the night.”

Rachel briefly glances up at him then. “Oh? Has it been that long?” she asks breezily, knowing full well that it has been. Kurt’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and Rachel pointedly drops her own back to the menu. “The tofu BLT looks interesting,” she murmurs in an attempt to change the subject. “What are you having?”

“Don’t attempt to distract me with food, Rachel Berry,” Kurt chastises mildly. “I’ve known you for ten years, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone more than three days without hearing every embellished detail of your life. So when nearly a month goes by with nothing but impersonal texts and two minute phone tag messages, I’m naturally concerned.”

Rachel feels another wave of guilt crash over her, and she sighs, gently setting down her menu. “I’m sorry, Kurt,” she offers sincerely. “I know I’ve been a little unavailable lately,” she admits, averting her eyes. “I’ve just been so incredibly busy.”

It’s not an outright lie. She has been busy—busy hiding the fact that Quinn Fabray is back in her life and that Rachel is falling for her so fast, practically bursting at the seams to tell someone other than Stephanie about Quinn and the amazing kiss that they’d shared. But she can’t.

“Busier than your normal busy?” Kurt challenges with a skeptical frown.

“Just busy,” Rachel mutters evasively, tracing her fingertips along the edge of the menu and praying that Kurt will just let it go.

Thankfully, they’re interrupted by the waitress, who recites the lunch specials and takes their drink orders before leaving them to look over the menu for a few more minutes, but the temporary distraction doesn’t deter Kurt for very long.

“Rachel, honey, what are you up to?” he asks almost as soon as they’re alone again.

“Why would you think I’m up to anything?” Rachel counters with well-practiced indignation.

Kurt’s eyebrows rise suspiciously. “For one thing, you’re avoiding eye contact.”

Rachel forces her gaze to meet Kurt’s once again, feeling a flush of shame inch up her neck because she knows he’s right. “I…I’m sorry. I suppose I just have a lot on my mind.” It’s true in a way, she supposes. She can’t stop thinking about Quinn.

Lord, how she wants to tell Kurt everything! But Quinn isn’t ready to face anyone from her painful past, and she might never forgive Rachel for spilling her secret without her permission. Somehow that’s become more important than the possibility that Kurt might not forgive her for keeping it.

Kurt’s eyes soften as he studies Rachel’s face. “I have time to listen,” he promises gently.

The offer makes Rachel feel even worse about everything she’s been keeping from him. “I appreciate that, Kurt, but…it’s not something I’m at liberty to discuss at the moment.”

Kurt sits back in his chair, frowning in muted concern. “Well, _that’s_ not at all ominous.”

Rachel sighs. “I promise that it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Kurt tilts his head thoughtfully. “Is it a new, secret project? Oh,” he gasps, eyes flashing with sudden excitement as he leans forward. “Are you leaving _The Devil Wears Prada_ for another show?” he asks, barely managing to keep his voice down. “Or are you breaking into television? Tell me you’re not planning to go all Hollywood on me.”

Rachel laughs a little at that, shaking her head. “No. Of course not.” _At least, not anytime soon_ , she silently adds, thinking not only of her promising Broadway career but of Quinn, who’s put down roots in New Jersey to be closer to Beth. “My contract with the show goes through the end of April, and they want to me to extend it,” Rachel confides with a pleased grin. She’s going to do it, too, despite the fact that it will keep her from another Tony nomination until she eventually (hopefully) gets cast in another eligible role. She’s still too in love with Andy and her cast to leave just yet.

“So…not a professional secret,” Kurt reflects, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hand up to his mouth to tap his finger against his lips in silent consideration.  

“Kurt, please let it go,” Rachel begs softly.

“Personal then,” he realizes with a wicked grin, dropping his hand back to the table top. “Rachel Berry, are you romancing someone new?”

“N-no,” Rachel denies hastily. “Why would you think that?”

“Besides the tellingly anxious expression on your face right now?” he tosses back easily. “There’s the fact that you turned down my last three attempts to set you up with someone.”

Rachel’s anxiety immediately transforms into annoyance, and she scowls at Kurt, reminding him, “The last person you set me up took me to a steakhouse and then made me pay for both our dinners after talking about himself for three hours.”

Kurt looks immediately regretful. “I’ve already apologized for Ted. He really did seem like he could be your type…apart from his dietary preferences.”

“Well, he wasn’t,” Rachel complains, grimacing at the memory of her last blind date. Truthfully, she could have accepted his love of meat, and she would have happily split the bill with him if he hadn’t been a self-centered bore. It really should bother her that Kurt thinks that might be her type, but then she’s forced to silently concede that having a dating history that includes so many egomaniacal actors (and actresses) probably doesn’t help her case. Sadly, Ted hadn’t even had the excuse of being a fellow thespian.

“There’s a very attractive woman at Blaine’s school who apparently appreciates the fairer sex,” Kurt informs her not-so-innocently.

“Kurt,” she warns.

“She teaches English,” he continues unimpeded, “and she’s _blonde_.”

“I’m not interested,” Rachel grits out as her mind calls up the image of the only blonde that she _is_ currently interested in.  

Kurt’s eyes narrow.  “There _is_ someone, isn’t there?”

Pursing her lips, Rachel takes a calming breath and attempts to school her features before looking Kurt directly in the eyes. “I assure you that I’m not seeing anyone new.”

It’s the truth.

Quinn isn’t _new_.  And they aren’t seeing one another in the romantic sense.

Yet.

In the face of her impeccable acting skills, Kurt has no choice but to believe her, and he actually looks disappointed by her answer. But then he gasps again, eyes wide. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks sharply.

“No!” Rachel practically screeches, shocked that he would even question that. Okay, maybe she did indulge in a few too many sweets over the holidays, but she’s certain that the extra pound (or two) doesn’t make her look pregnant! “Of course I’m not!”  

Kurt’s shoulders sag in relief, and he nods slightly. “And you’re not getting back together with Riley?” he checks cautiously, having already voiced his concerns about that possibility after Rachel had told him several months ago that they were back on speaking—well, _texting_ —terms.

“I’m not,” she assures him.

“Good. She never deserved you,” he tells her with a shake of his head, and Rachel vaguely wonders what his opinion will be on Quinn when she eventually tells him about her.

“You’d tell me if you were any kind of trouble, wouldn’t you?” Kurt asks softly after a moment, and the concern in his voice warms Rachel’s heart even as it turns her stomach acrid around the heavy secret that she’s been forced to swallow down.

“I would. And I’m not,” she promises around the tightness in her throat.

Kurt silently studies her for another long moment before he sighs in resignation. “Then I suppose I’ll have to let you have your secret,” he concedes. “For now.”

Swallowing thickly, Rachel nods and forces a trembling smile, wishing so badly that she could tell him the truth. Instead, she only says, “Thank you, Kurt,” as she sends up a prayer that Quinn will be able to reconcile her past to Rachel’s present sooner rather than later—because she really can’t keep lying to her friends this way for much longer.


	13. Text Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Friday, February 14, 2020**  
>  Rachel wishes Quinn a Happy Valentine’s Day and receives an invitation for lunch.

**RACHEL:** Hi, Quinn. Happy Valentine's Day. I hope it's being sweet to you. :)

 **QUINN:** Happy Valentine's Day, Rachel. Your text definitely made it sweeter. :)

 **RACHEL:** I'm very glad to hear it. I wish I could make it sweeter in person, but alas, I have a show tonight.

 **RACHEL:** Do you have any plans for the holiday weekend?

 **QUINN:** I'm seeing Beth tomorrow, but otherwise, nothing definite.

 **QUINN:** I actually wanted to ask you if you're free on Monday. I have the day off.

 **RACHEL:** Since I can't be your Valentine, I'm happy that Beth will be.

 **RACHEL:** I am absolutely free on Monday. I'd love to see you.

 **QUINN:** You could still be my Valentine.

 **QUINN:** If you want.

 **QUINN:** Would you be up for coming to Bloomfield?

 **RACHEL:** I very much want, Quinn.  <3

 **RACHEL:** And I would love to come to Bloomfield. Just tell me when and where, and I'll be there.

 **QUINN:** There's a train that leaves New York at 12:11 and gets to Bloomfield at 12:40. If that works for you, I can pick you up at the train station.

 **QUINN:** I thought we could do lunch.

 **QUINN:** And then, maybe we could talk about things.

 **RACHEL:** Yes. Absolutely. I will be on that train.

 **RACHEL:** I can't wait to see you again, Quinn.

 **QUINN:** Me too. I've missed you.

 **QUINN:** Thank you for being my Valentine. :)

 **QUINN:** I'll see you Monday. Break a leg tonight!

 **RACHEL:** I've missed you too.

 **RACHEL:** And I'm proud to be your Valentine. Thank you for asking me.

 **RACHEL:** See you Monday. :D


	14. You Can’t Hurry Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, February 17, 2020**  
>  Rachel visits Quinn in New Jersey where they spend a day together, starting with their first date-date and ending with a much-needed talk.

**RACHEL:** As the train approaches Bloomfield, those familiar butterflies that come alive in Rachel’s belly whenever Quinn is near (or even mentioned) make their presence felt once more. She’s excited to see Quinn again and more excited for the chance to spend an entire afternoon with her in the place where she’s building a life for herself. Rachel can’t help but hope that Quinn’s invitation to visit her “hometown” is a sign that she might finally be ready to open up to Rachel, especially since she’d mentioned the possibility of them talking after lunch. Perhaps Rachel is merely reading into the comment, but she’s taken it to mean that they’ll be talking about some of the things from Quinn’s difficult past that she hasn’t felt comfortable talking about yet.

The scenery outside of the window begins to pass more slowly, and Rachel knows the train is approaching the station. She runs her fingers through her hair as she squints at her faint reflection in the glass, pulling the loose ends over the collar of her black coat. Beneath the warm fleece-lined winter-wear is a modest cream sweater over a pair of form-fitting blue jeans, the tapered legs tucked into sensible, ankle-high boots. She’d thought about donning a sexy dress for their date—because in her mind, this is absolutely a date—but it hadn’t seemed appropriate for either the afternoon lunch or the frigid winter weather. In any case, Quinn had certainly seemed to appreciate the way Rachel had looked in jeans the last time she’d worn them.

Rachel fiddles with the simple tupperware container on her lap. She’s not entirely certain how serious Quinn had been when she’d asked Rachel to be her Valentine—and the holiday has already passed—but Rachel had taken it seriously enough to not want to show up completely empty handed. It had seemed a bit presumptuous to buy a gift since they aren’t technically dating yet, so she’d settled on baking a small batch of heart-shaped cookies to present to Quinn. She knows that Quinn tends to stay away from sweets, but Rachel is hoping that she might enjoy a few in moderation since they are a vegan recipe. Rachel is sure that Quinn will probably want to share them with her roommate, Kaitlyn, anyway.

When the train eases to a stop, Rachel stands, straightening her coat and shuffling out into the aisle to make her way off the train. She’s never been to Bloomfield, so she isn’t entirely certain what to expect when she steps onto the platform, but it hardly matters because she knows that she’s on her way to Quinn.

 **QUINN:** Leaving the warmth of her car and braving the cold winter air outside, Quinn makes her way to the platform on the westbound side of the tracks at Bloomfield Station, knowing Rachel’s train is scheduled to arrive in the next few minutes.

Since the last time they saw each other, Quinn has tried to heed Kaitlyn’s suggestion of taking relative baby steps with Rachel. They’ve been texting nearly daily, skirting the lines of flirtation more and more, until Quinn finally gathered the courage to take another important step forward in their relationship.

In her hands she holds a single, red rose. After all, Rachel did agree to be Quinn’s Valentine (something that still feels like it’s out of a dream), and she hopes that Rachel will appreciate the simple, yet romantic, gesture.

But there is an underlying nervousness running through her, because this is the first time she’s allowing herself to be alone with Rachel. And it’s something that needs to happen, but Quinn is still afraid that she’ll ruin everything.

She takes a fortifying breath and reminds herself of Rachel’s promise to work through this together, trying to draw comfort from that.

The train horn blares in the distance then, and butterflies instantly take flight in Quinn’s belly as she looks down the tracks to see the train carrying Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** Stepping off the train, Rachel juggles the cookies that she’s carrying while she pulls her coat collar higher with her free hand in an attempt to help stave off the cold. She instinctively moves in the same direction as the handful of other passengers that had disembarked as she begins to search for Quinn.

Rachel spots her almost instantly, standing on the platform with pink cheeks and a shy smile, and Rachel practically beams at her as she picks up her pace to get to Quinn that much faster. When she manages to pull her gaze away from Quinn’s glowing face, Rachel notices the single, red rose clutched in her hand, and she nearly loses her breath. A rush of affection surges through her, warming her to her core, and it takes everything in her not to break into a run over those last few feet, throw her arms around Quinn, and kiss her breathless.

The cookies suddenly seem like a paltry gesture, but there’s nothing she can do about that now, so she glides to a stop in front of Quinn, grinning like an idiot and knowing that her heart is likely shining in her eyes.

 **QUINN:** The moment she catches sight of Rachel stepping off the train, Quinn’s mouth curves up into a smile as she feels her anticipation grow. Somehow, Rachel looks even more beautiful than she did the last time Quinn saw her.

And the way Rachel positively lights up when their eyes meet sends a rush of warmth through Quinn. Despite their kiss and Rachel’s confession in the Strand, not to mention all the texting they’ve done over the last month, it still feels surreal to have Rachel look at her like this—like Quinn is the sun, the moon, and the stars.

“Hi, Rachel,” she says with a soft smile, offering Rachel the rose in her hand. “Happy belated-Valentine’s Day.”

 **RACHEL:** Her smile grows impossibly wider at Quinn’s sweet gesture, and Rachel reaches out to accept the rose—her fingers gliding purposefully over Quinn’s. “Thank you, Quinn,” she murmurs sweetly. If Quinn is this thoughtful and romantic now, Rachel can only imagine what she would do if they were in a committed, romantic relationship.

She lifts the bud to her nose, breathing in its sweet scent with a happy, little giggle before she tucks it close to her heart, holding up the container of cookies in her other hand. “Happy belated-Valentine’s Day to you, too.”

Quinn laughs lightly, taking the container from her, and Rachel feels compelled to tell her, “I know you’re careful with your diet, but they’re vegan, so you can indulge with only a third of the guilt. And…well…I made them myself,” she admits bashfully, hoping that Quinn will like them.

 **QUINN:** Seeing how happy the rose has made Rachel makes Quinn feel really good, but it’s nothing compared to the way she feels when Rachel gives her a tupperware container filled with homemade, heart-shaped cookies. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever given Quinn.

“Thank you,” she says, unable to stop her smile from growing. “And thanks for making the trip out here.”

She hesitates for only the briefest moment before wrapping her arms around Rachel and breathing her in.

 **RACHEL:** This might be the first time that Quinn has initiated a hug with her, and Rachel’s heart soars at the contact. She melts into Quinn’s embrace, curling her own arms around Quinn’s waist and barely resisting the urge to turn her face and press a chaste kiss to Quinn’s cheek. Instead, she murmurs close to Quinn’s ear, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

It’s true of the visit to Bloomfield but more so of being in Quinn’s arms. It’s been a really long time since anything has felt quite this right. Rachel can hear and feel Quinn’s indrawn breath, and the arms around her tighten noticeably before finally letting her go.

There’s a pretty flush to Quinn’s cheeks as she gazes at Rachel, and Rachel grins coyly before flirtatiously asking, “So what are your plans for me today, Ms. Fabray?”

 **QUINN:** “Well, first, I’d like to get you out of the cold,” she replies, gesturing toward the parking lot before starting to walk with Rachel back to her car. “And then I thought we could go to Holsten’s for lunch. I don’t know if you’re a fan of _The Sopranos_ , but the show’s final scene was filmed there.”

It’s not the most romantic place Quinn could have chosen, but she needs to have elements of familiarity and comfort to anchor her while she heads into uncharted territory with Rachel. And Holsten’s is just the place—it’s actually Beth’s favorite restaurant. She just hopes that the connection to one of the greatest shows of all time will be enough to please Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** “I wasn’t a serious fan,” Rachel admits, following Quinn to her car, “but I have seen the show, and you know I’m always interested in entertainment trivia. I can’t wait to see the restaurant.”

Really, she’s just happy to be spending time with Quinn. The where of it hardly matters to her. Lifting the rose, Rachel inhales its scent again with a soft smile. “I’ve really been looking forward to today.” And it’s off to a really wonderful start.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s admission sends another rush of warmth through Quinn, and she smiles again. “Me too,” she agrees, even though a part of her still nervous about the conversation that lays ahead. But until then, she’s going to try to enjoy this time Rachel as much as possible.

Quinn unlocks her car as they approach it. Before getting into the driver’s seat, she places the tupperware container of cookies on the backseat, tempted to sample one now but ultimately deciding to save it for later.

She then gets herself situated before looking over at Rachel, who is smiling contentedly as she inhales the rose. The sun shines on her face, adding to the glow that seems to be coming off Rachel—her happiness is infectious. It’s an image Quinn wants to memorize and hold on to.

Rachel meets her gaze then, and, having been caught staring, Quinn shyly bites her lower lip before reluctantly looking away and putting her key in the ignition. Quinn starts the engine then, and her car is soon filled with the crooning of Diana Ross and the Supremes. It’s a ten-minute drive to the restaurant, so Quinn decides to leave it on.

 **RACHEL:** The car fills with the sound of the Supremes, and Rachel grins. It seems appropriate, somehow, that this should be the soundtrack of their date this afternoon. Ever since high school, these old Motown classics have reminded her of Quinn—probably because they’d tended to be her go-to songs in glee—and this song in particular seems rather apropos for them.

Music has always been a siren’s call to Rachel, and the urge to softly sing along proves irresistible. “You can’t hurry love. No, you just have to wait. She said love don’t come easy. It’s a game of give and take.”

Quinn’s mouth curves into a smile as she drives, and her fingers on the steering wheel are noticeably tapping in time with the beat. The bulk of her attention stays on the road, but every so often, her eyes dart over to Rachel, whose voice grows just a little stronger with every glance.

 **QUINN:** She’s tempted to join in, but there’s something about hearing Rachel singing along to one of Quinn’s favorite songs—she doesn’t want to miss a single moment of it. So instead she listens, letting the sound of Rachel’s voice soothe her and once again realizing how damn lucky she is to have this amazing woman back in her life.

When Rachel starts singing the lines, “But I keep on waiting, anticipating for that soft voice to talk to me at night, for some tender arms to hold me tight,” that very image arises unbidden in Quinn’s mind. It’s everything she ever wanted, and she does her best to ignore the parts of her mind that are trying to keep her from getting there.

 **RACHEL:** She can’t help wishing that Quinn would join in on her impromptu performance. It’s been far too many years since Rachel has had the pleasure of hearing Quinn’s tremulous alto, and she only realizes in this moment how much she’s missed hearing her sing. She’ll have to figure out a way to rectify that soon, but for now, she’s content to finish out the song as a solo and bask in the warmth the smile that Quinn sends her way.

Rachel does manage to resist singing along to the next song, mostly because she’s content to sit back and admire Quinn’s profile as she drives them through the streets of Bloomfield. Soon enough they’re traveling along a street lined with small businesses and restaurants, and the car begins to slow. Rachel glances around in search of the restaurant that Quinn had mentioned, but before she can find it, Quinn is turning between two of the buildings into a hidden parking lot surrounded by trees.

The drive has apparently come to its end for now, but their date is just beginning.

 **QUINN:** “It’s just around the corner,” Quinn explains as she pulls into a spot and turns her car off. “It’s easier to park here than on the street.”

Rachel offers her another smile and nods in understanding before looking back her rose. Quinn watches as that smile transforms into an adorable pout as Rachel reluctantly places the flower on the dashboard before climbing out of the car.

It’s a short walk to Holsten's—it’s only three doors down from the parking lot—and they soon arrive at their destination. On the outside, it looks like a an ice cream parlor, which is one of the main draws, along with their homemade candy, but the back half of Holsten’s is a luncheonette that serves simple but delicious comfort food.

Quinn looks toward Rachel, who is gazing up at the awning with a furrowed brow, causing Quinn to smile at her confusion. “Don’t worry, they have food too,” she assures her before opening the door for Rachel.

Rachel murmurs a soft thank you before stepping inside, and Quinn follows close behind her. She’s then hit with the scent of homemade chocolate as soon as she walks in, and she briefly closes her eyes as she breathes it in.

 **RACHEL:** She’s admittedly a little bit leery when she sees the sign that proclaims Holsten’s to be an ice cream parlor, but Rachel trusts Quinn enough to give it a try. Upon entering, her gaze travels around the parlor, taking in the long ice cream counter and stools to her left. It looks like something straight out of the early 20th Century. She can almost imagine slipping into a poodle skirt and hopping up onto one of those stools to share a milkshake with her sweetheart—who happens to be Quinn.

Just across from the ice cream counter is a confectionary straight out of Rachel’s most decadent chocolate fantasies. Her eyes travel over the candies as the sweet scent of chocolate fills her nose. The shelves behind the display cases are lined with colorful stuffed animals and bags of hard candy, and Rachel has a feeling she won’t be walking out of here without making a purchase that she really shouldn’t make.

In the back of the parlor, Rachel can see booths lining the walls, several of them already filled with customers, and one waitress loaded down with plates of burgers and fries as she makes her way to a table.

Rachel glances back at Quinn, noticing the mildly anxious expression on her face. “It’s cute,” she decides with a smile. “And I’m starving. Let’s get a table before I decide to skip lunch and dive right into the confections.”

 **QUINN:** She lets out a breath of relief at Rachel’s approval, having started to second-guess her decision to bring Rachel here the longer she examined the parlor. They make their way further inside, and the host greets them before leading them to a booth for two in the back and places two menus on the table.

“I know it’s not the fanciest place,” Quinn says after they take off their coats and get settled in their seats, “but it’s one of my favorite places to come, and I wanted to share it with you.” She bites her lower lip, feeling a little vulnerable admitting that out loud. “And they have a really good veggie burger,” she adds, knowing that she’s going to be making herself much more vulnerable once they’re alone.

 **RACHEL:** Knowing that Quinn wants to share one of her favorite places with Rachel instantly makes it even more special. She smiles as she gazes at Quinn. “I don’t need fancy, Quinn. I’d be happy to be spending time with you anywhere,” Rachel assures her. “But I’m even happier to discover a little more of how you spend you days.”

She glances around the restaurant again—at the simple wood-paneled walls lined with framed pictures and the tabletop jukeboxes tucked into every booth—and understands why Quinn is drawn to the place. Just like the Motown classics, there’s a sense of timelessness here that evokes a much more innocent era. Something about it seems to fit Quinn. “I can see why you love it here.”

 **QUINN:** She smiles back at Rachel and feels herself grow a touch more relaxed, secretly thrilled that Rachel is genuinely happy and eager to be a part of her life. Quinn just hopes she’ll feel the same by the time their day is over.

Their waitress arrives at their table then with two glasses of water in hand. “Hello, ladies,” she says with a friendly smile as she places the glasses on the table. “Can I get you anything to drink besides water?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Quinn replies before looking toward Rachel again, who is looking at the menu indecisively—and why does everything Rachel do have to be so adorable? “Their hot chocolate is really good,” she suggests, remembering their night at Caffe Bene.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s suggestion has Rachel’s eyes pausing in their perusal of the menu to glance up at Quinn’s smiling face. She was going to be good and stick with the water despite the tempting assortment of milkshakes and ice cream sodas on the menu, but now that Quinn has mentioned the hot chocolate, she’s thinking it sounds really good and would certainly help alleviate the lingering chill in her bones from the weather outside. The milkshake certainly wouldn’t have done that.

Smiling, Rachel tells their waitress, “I think I will try a cup of the hot chocolate, please.”

The waitress nods politely, asking, “Are you ready to order? Or do you need a few minutes?”

Rachel has become pretty skillful over the years at quickly isolating the vegetarian friendly items on any menu. There are a several options here to choose from besides the veggie burger that Quinn had mentioned, but the atmosphere around them almost demands that she try the burger with a side of (undoubtedly greasy) onion rings.

Looking back to Quinn, Rachel tells her, “I think I’m ready. Are you?”

 **QUINN:** “I’m ready,” she confirms, although truthfully, she’s still trying to decide between two options: the veggie burger or the turkey burger. In the event that they might kiss again (and very thought has Quinn’s stomach fluttering and heat rushing up her neck), Rachel likely won’t appreciate Quinn having eaten meat, but she could kind of use the extra protein right now.

“I’ll have the turkey burger deluxe,” Quinn finally decides, knowing she’ll be making sure to brush her teeth as soon as they get back to her apartment and praying that she’s not visibly blushing.

 **RACHEL:** An adorable flush of embarrassment blooms on Quinn’s cheeks as she orders, and Rachel bites back her amused grin. She certainly hopes that Quinn knows she has no reason to feel guilty for not observing a meatless diet in Rachel’s presence. She’s already proven so much more sympathetic to Rachel’s diet than any of her past partners—not that Quinn is exactly her partner yet, but she’s increasingly hopeful.

Rachel feels her own cheeks heat, and she reluctantly pulls her gaze away from Quinn, glancing back at the waitress. “I’ll have the veggie burger with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise on the side and an order of onion rings,” she dictates, closing her menu and handing it back to their waitress.

“I’ll put that in for you now and be right back with your hot chocolate,” the waitress promises with a polite smile before she leaves the table.

Rachel turns her attention back to Quinn, folding her hands demurely on the tabletop. “So, tell me…do those jukeboxes actually work?” she asks with a playful grin, nodding to the one on their table.

 **QUINN:** “Unfortunately, no,” she replies, reaching up to turn the knob that flips the display of the old-time hits from the 60s and 70s. “They’re purely decorative. And ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ isn’t actually among the songs displayed.”

Despite the connection the song has to _The Sopranos_ , Quinn will always associate it with Beth, since she went into labor right after their Journey medley at Regionals. But despite having a good relationship with Beth now, there’s still an element of bittersweetness to the song association—it does make her think of the glee club—of Rachel. And of Finn.

She presses her lips together and lets her hand fall away from the jukebox, mentally shaking her head. As she looks toward Rachel, happily here with her on an honest-to-God date, Quinn wonders if the guilt will ever fully go away, and if she even deserves for that to happen.

 **RACHEL:** At the mention of “Don’t Stop Believing,” Rachel feels a pang of wistfulness creep over her. She can’t help but forever associate that song with Finn, and she smiles a little sadly at the memory. It should feel strange to be sitting here on a date with Quinn and be reminded of the man that Rachel had once stolen from her and later almost married, but Rachel honestly believes that Finn would give them his blessing.

“I don’t really listen to that song much anymore anyway,” she admits—it never fails to makes her cry now. Quinn guiltily averts her eyes at the revelation, dragging in a sharp breath, and Rachel instinctively reaches across the table to cover Quinn’s hand with her own. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s a part of our shared past, but I’d rather focus on the here and now. On us,” she adds softly.

 **QUINN:** “I’d rather do that too, but…” she trails off, not daring to look up to meet Rachel’s gaze. 'You wouldn’t be here with me now if Finn wasn’t gone,’ Quinn finishes silently. “It’s just hard sometimes,” she says instead, trying to draw comfort from Rachel’s touch.

Quinn turns her hand over then to interlace her fingers with Rachel’s as her gaze lifts to look at Rachel again. “I know there’s still a lot we need to talk about. And I’m willing to try. Thank you for being so patient.”

 **RACHEL:** When Quinn entwines their fingers together, Rachel feels another rush of affection for her, but she can almost see glimpses of the hidden demons behind Quinn’s eyes. Rachel would be lying to say that they don’t scare her just a little, but, “You’re more than worth it, Quinn.”

Rachel’s patience is finally being rewarded, because Quinn is telling her that she’s willing to try to talk about some of the things that they’ve been dancing around for months. It’s a little scary, but Rachel is ready to meet Quinn’s demons and better understand where they sometimes take her.

“There’s a lot I still want to ask you,” Rachel admits, “but I’m willing to go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

 **QUINN:** “Thank you,” Quinn repeats, gently squeezing Rachel’s hand but not really willing to let go just yet, even when their waitress returns with Rachel’s hot chocolate. Things will probably be getting pretty heavy later on, and despite the guilt that lingers, Quinn is going to enjoy this simple closeness with Rachel.

“Here you go, hon,” their waitress says as she places a steaming mug topped with whipped cream in front of Rachel. “Your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

 **RACHEL:** “Thank you,” Rachel directs to the waitress with a polite smile, never letting go of Quinn’s hand. After all, she’d offered to hold it whenever Quinn gets lost inside her head, and she’d meant it.

When they’re alone again, Rachel directs her smile at Quinn as she pulls the mug of hot chocolate closer with her free hand. It smells delicious, but she can see the steam rising around the edges of the whipped cream, so she decides to let it cool for a bit before attempting to take a sip.

She gives Quinn’s hand a reciprocal squeeze, deciding to ask one of the more innocent (she thinks) questions currently on her mind. “So, how was your day with Beth? Did the two of you do anything special?”

 **QUINN:** Her lips automatically curve up into a smile at the mention of Beth, and she grows a touch more relaxed and relieved that she and Rachel can talk about her daughter with ease now.

“It was good. We came here, actually,” Quinn replies, thinking back to her time with Beth two days earlier. “Beth’s in her school’s drum corps, and they performed at the Prudential Center in Newark for a college basketball halftime show. I wanted to treat her to some ice cream afterward, and she picked Holsten’s.”

And now, Quinn can’t help but brag a little, but she’s so proud of Beth, and she’s so happy she doesn’t have to hold back talking about her with Rachel. “She’s only been playing drums for about six months, but she’s already one of the best in the corps.”

 **RACHEL:** The image of Beth rocking away behind a drumset has Rachel grinning. She might not have seen the little girl in person in a few years, but Shelby did show her a fairly recent picture when she came to Rachel’s show last year, and there’s no denying the resemblance to her birth mother. Rachel really should do something to rectify the poor state of her relationship to her adoptive (kind of) sister, especially now that she and Quinn are growing closer.

“I’m not surprised,” Rachel muses. “I’m sure she inherited her rhythm and coordination from you…not to mention her determination to be the best. You did make head cheerleader as a freshman,” she reminds Quinn playfully. “I’m sure Beth will be the captain of the corps in no time at all.”

Rachel has the fleeting thought that Finn would have loved knowing that Beth became a drummer, and she thinks maybe she’ll have to open up that old box of mementos she keeps tucked in the back of her closet and pull out the pair of Finn’s old drumsticks that Carol had given her after his memorial service.

“Maybe I can take some lessons from her,” Rachel jokes.

For some reason, Finn had never wanted to give her more than one lesson. Honestly, she only broke the one drumhead.

 **QUINN:** The mental image of Beth teaching Rachel how to play the drums warms Quinn’s heart, and that Rachel is the one who put it there makes it even better.

“I’m sure Beth would love that…” Quinn says, idly rubbing her thumb along the back of Rachel’s hand. “Although, she might spend more time showing off than teaching,” she adds with a half smile. “She does want to start a band though. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried recruiting you to be her lead singer.”

 **RACHEL:** The tiny patterns that Quinn is drawing on the back of Rachel’s hand are slowly driving her crazy and making it harder and harder to concentrate on the conversation, but Rachel really doesn’t want Quinn to stop.

Beth, she silently recalls. We’re focusing on Beth and her hypothetical band-to-be.

“I might just take her up on that offer,” Rachel counters matter-of-factly. “After all, a Grammy is on my list of awards to win.”

Quinn laughs at that, shaking her head. Rachel adores the light, happy sound. She wants to hear more of it.

She finally lifts her hot chocolate, gently blowing across the top of the mug—careful not to further disturb the whip cream that’s sadly already melting into the liquid. “Although, I imagine that Beth would probably try to recruit Shelby first,” she considers before carefully taking a drink, happy to hear her mother’s name pass her lips without the usual resentment. As much as Rachel hates to admit it, she did inherit her voice from Shelby. The woman can sing.

 **QUINN:** “Doubtful,” Quinn retorts playfully. “I’ve heard both of you sing, and while Shelby has a great voice, yours is… it’s something out of this world.” She presses her lips together shyly before continuing, “But I guess that makes sense, considering who you are—the shiniest star of all.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s heartfelt compliments make Rachel feel warm all over, but at the same time, a memory tickles at the back of her mind, insistently pushing its way forward until she can’t ignore it. Rachel’s stomach dips and swirls, and she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip before she finally finds her voice. “You…you told me that once before,” she remembers, gazing deeply into Quinn’s eyes, “but I didn’t believe you really meant it at the time,” she admits sadly. “I thought you were just trying to convince me not to marry Finn.”

Rachel wonders again—knowing what she now knows—if maybe Quinn had felt something more for her even then, and the idea that she might have is nearly enough to break Rachel’s heart.

 **QUINN:** She sucks in a sharp breath as her stomach churns with guilt, and Quinn doesn’t know whether to let go of Rachel’s hand or hold on tighter. All she knows is that she’s not in control of her thoughts—thinking that she doesn’t even deserve to hold Rachel’s hand, that she’d rather be here with Finn instead of Quinn—or the way her body reacts to them—it’s immediate and all-consuming, like a vise gripped around her chest.

She feels Rachel tighten her hold on her hand then, and Quinn swallows thickly, trying to steady and center herself as she focuses on Rachel’s touch and brown eyes that shine with concern. She can’t change the past, she reminds herself. Rachel wants to be here with her.

But those rational thoughts are hard to hold on to when she feels like this.

 **RACHEL:** She shouldn’t have mentioned Finn or their ill-advised teen engagement. Rachel knows immediately that she’s said the wrong thing—whether it was mentioning Finn specifically or bringing up the wedding and the painful memories that Quinn must associate with it thanks to her accident. Rachel feels helpless being forced to sit there and watch Quinn’s demons get the better of her, knowing that she’d triggered it, and she tightens her grip on Quinn’s hand, determined to keep her from retreating into herself completely.

“Quinn, honey, don’t go wherever your mind is taking you,” Rachel pleads quietly. “Stay with me. Talk to me. We’re working through it together, remember?”

 **QUINN:** She presses her lips together and takes a several slow, steady breaths as she focuses on what Rachel’s saying.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says quietly after a few moments. She’s still not settled, but she’s not being overwhelmed by guilt and acute anxiety at the moment. It’s more of a quiet unease that lingers, but Quinn can deal with that.

“Finn… his accident… it triggered me, and sometimes just the memory of him… and you and him together, it’s-” she cuts herself off. She’s still not ready to really say all this out loud to Rachel. “My doctor has been trying to get me to deal with this for years, but I couldn’t,” Quinn says instead. “It was too scary, but ever since you came back into my life, I realized I couldn’t keep running from it.”

 **RACHEL:** The mention of Finn’s accident sends a familiar stab of pain through Rachel, but it’s intensified by the knowledge that Quinn is—and has been—so broken by it in a way completely different than Rachel had been. Rachel has glued all her own broken bits back together, healing with time, but apparently, Quinn hasn’t been able to do that yet. And more than that—Quinn indicated that Rachel’s relationship with Finn had somehow contributed to that first breakdown. It makes Rachel believe that Quinn had in fact had ulterior motives for wanting Rachel to break her engagement all those years ago.

Chewing on her lip, Rachel takes a moment to compose her thoughts and hopes that she doesn’t inadvertently make this worse. It scares her a little—this aspect of Quinn’s personality—but it doesn’t change her desire to be close to her—to know everything about her and, hopefully, help her to heal.

“Finn’s accident was…” Tragic, heartbreaking, stupid, reckless. Rachel has used them all at one point or another, but, “It wasn’t anything you could have prevented.” Holding Quinn’s gaze with determination, Rachel offers her a supportive smile. “I don’t know exactly why it triggers you the way it does, and as much as I hope you’ll tell me one day, I won’t push you to talk about it until you’re ready. But at the same time, I know…I know that he wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer this way because of him,” she says as gently as she can. “He’d want you to remember all the happy moments.”

 **QUINN:** “I don’t know exactly why it triggers me either,” she admits a little shakily. “But I just… there’s a lot of guilt, and it doesn’t always make sense. And there’s a part of me that knows you’re right—that Finn… things between us were actually kind of okay, considering, but-” Quinn swallows and blinks a few times, trying to maintain her composure, not wanting to lose it in such a public place.

“Sometimes I feel like it should have been me and not him,” she admits sadly. “I know that’s not what he would have wanted, but that’s what I feel.”

 **RACHEL:** If the pain that Rachel had experienced at remembering Finn’s accident had been bad, hearing that Quinn still feels like she should have been the one to die is even worse. As much as Rachel wishes that Finn was still alive in this world, she would never, ever trade his life for anyone else's—most especially not Quinn’s.

Her grip on Quinn’s hand tightens even more, as if that will somehow keep Quinn alive and safe and here with Rachel forever. Rachel would worry that she might be cutting off Quinn’s circulation if her mind wasn’t in turmoil over the thought of losing Quinn the same way she’d lost—

“No. You can’t,” Rachel begs softly. “I can’t bear the idea of you not being here,” she confesses brokenly, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself. A phantom weight settles over her chest, reminiscent of the slow suffocation that had pressed down on her for weeks after Quinn’s accident in high school, ebbing away only when Quinn had finally stood up from her wheelchair.

It shouldn’t have been Quinn—and it shouldn’t have been Finn either. Death isn’t some balancing scale that requires an even exchange. Finn is gone, and Quinn is here, and Rachel cherishes every moment that she’s been able to spend with both of them.

“I…I know you can’t really control how you feel,” Rachel acknowledges, once again meeting Quinn’s glistening gaze, “but, Quinn…your life is every bit as precious as Finn’s was,” she avows, watching as Quinn blinks backs her tears. “You’re here…alive and so incredibly dear to me…and I’m so grateful that we’re able to have a second chance.”

 **QUINN:** She wants to believe what Rachel is saying about Quinn’s life being precious—she wants to believe it so badly—but her feelings sometime get the better of her. Yet despite those negative feelings about herself, Rachel’s obvious care and love manages to cut through it just enough to make her want to hold on to this second chance. Even if part of Quinn thinks she doesn’t deserve it, she’ll try for Rachel.

“Thank you for saying that,” she says after a beat, still teary-eyed. She presses her lips together as she gazes at Rachel, who is still holding her hand just as tightly as before. Quinn finds that it grounds her a bit.

There’s more she needs to tell Rachel—more she needs to explain—because as frustrating as these bouts of anxiety are, they’re nothing compared to what happens to her when she has a full-blown episode of mania or depression. And she’s still afraid that Rachel, despite the best intentions, won’t be able to stay in the face of that.

But now isn’t the time—something that is illustrated perfectly by their waitress’s reappearance at their table with plates of food.

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t want to let go of Quinn’s hand. For a moment, Rachel considers defiantly holding on to it despite their waitress’s raised eyebrows and forcing the woman to set their plates down around them, but she supposes she’ll have to let go anyway if they want to actually eat their lunches. With a reluctant sigh, Rachel grudgingly lets her grip slacken, slowly sliding her hand away from the warmth of Quinn’s touch as she leans back in the booth. She indiscreetly lifts a hand to brush away the moisture that’s gathered beneath her eyes, noticing Quinn do the same.

“Here you go, girls,” the waitress announces, ignoring their obvious emotional disarray with a well-practiced smile. “One turkey burger deluxe,” she recites as she places Quinn’s plate in front of her. “And one veggie burger with an order of onion rings.” Rachel glances down at her plate, pleased to see her mayonnaise in a little cup as ordered. “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asks.

“No. Thank you. I think we’re okay,” Rachel says, glancing back to Quinn with a tentative smile and hoping that it’s true of more than just their meals.

 **QUINN:** She feels the loss of Rachel’s touch as she untangles her hand from Quinn’s, and she immediately misses the contact.

But then their waitress is talking as she sets down their food, so Quinn takes that time to try to collect herself. Quinn nods at Rachel’s questioning tone, keeping her gaze on Rachel rather than their waitress as she confirms, “We’re okay.” For the time being, she finishes silently.

“Enjoy, girls,” their waitress says before leaving them alone once more.

Quinn is relieved to have a bit of a reprieve, as their lunch should hopefully keep the conversation from drifting back into such heavy territory.

 **RACHEL:** The silence that falls over their table once the waitress leaves isn’t what Rachel would call comfortable. Quinn is quiet and a little withdrawn, and Rachel silently laments the stark change in the tone of their date. It worries her more than a little that Quinn might be stumbling backwards over all those careful steps that they’d taken forward together. It’s the last thing she wants to happen.

Rachel glances down at her burger again, wishing that her appetite wasn’t still suffering the effects of the emotional rollercoaster that they’d just been on. Still, “It looks really good,” she comments, settling her gaze on Quinn and offering an encouraging smile. “You can share my onion rings…if you want.”

 **QUINN:** “Thanks,” she says, offering Rachel a smile of her own—although, she’s sure it looks strained. “They’re the best in the state, you know. And you’re welcome to have some of my fries.”

Quinn looks down at her plate and stares tentatively at her turkey burger. Truthfully, her appetite is kind of shot at the moment, but skipping meals is something she tries not to let herself do anymore if she can help it. So she pushes through and picks up her burger, determined to keep at least one routine on track.

 **RACHEL:** For a time, they focus on their meals without the need for conversation. Well—Quinn doesn’t seem to feel the need for conversation. Rachel watches the almost methodical way she consumes her burger, seeming to approach it more like a task than a meal that she’s savoring. It makes Rachel’s own burger less enjoyable than it would otherwise be, though objectively, it is very flavorful, and she can certainly understand why the onion rings are considered the best in the state. She kind of hates herself for ruining what should have been a wonderful lunch.

The need to make everything better makes her skin itch.

Rachel abandons her burger in order to reach across the table and snag a french fry from Quinn’s plate, popping it into her mouth. Quinn’s lips quirk up into a tiny grin at the action, and Rachel feels her own tension ease just a bit.

“How are things at work?” she asks after swallowing her food, attempting to fill the silence with some benign small talk. “Is the book on Arthur Miller coming together?”

 **QUINN:** “It is,” she replies with a slight nod, feeling herself relax ever so slightly and grateful that Rachel has moved on to a safer topic. She sets her mostly-finished burger down and takes a sip of water before continuing. “Our acquiring editor just handed the manuscript off to me last Thursday, so now it’s officially my project to manage. I read through it on Friday, and it’s an engaging read. I like the biographer’s writing style.”

Quinn genuinely enjoys her job and is happy to get to work on projects that are of interest to her, but she doubts it comes close to how fulfilling Rachel’s career must be for her. “How about you? Are you still enjoying playing Andy, or are you looking forward to taking on a new role?”

 **RACHEL:** “I’m still enjoying it,” Rachel confirms with a smile. “Granted, performing the same show eight times a week can occasionally be tiring, both physically and emotionally, but it’s been such an amazing experience. And it helps that I’ve made some really great friends in the cast and crew.” She thinks that she and Stephanie will probably be friends for life.

“I’ve actually been asked to extend my contract another six months,” she reveals, unabashedly proud that the producers consider her an asset to be held on to—complete with a nice pay increase. Even so, “I considered refusing so that I could move on to a new role…one that might get me a second chance at that Tony,” she adds slyly before shrugging, “but I’m not ready to say goodbye to Andy just yet.”

Apparently Stephanie isn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Emily either, and knowing that she’s staying for a few more months is added incentive for Rachel to stay too.

She can’t deny that she’s also a little nervous to give up a sure thing in order to throw herself back into the uncertainty of casting calls. Her agent has sent a couple of potential leads her way, but she’d still have to audition, and there’s no guarantee that she’d be offered the roles, despite her success in _The Devil Wears Prada_. Rachel is honestly afraid that casting directors might still pass her over because she’s too short or too Jewish or her nose is too big.

“And I have to admit…I really like being steadily employed.”

 **QUINN:** “Understandable, but I’d have to think you could get any role you wanted,” Quinn replies, feeling her lingering anxiety finally slip away—her belief and certainty in Rachel stronger than anything else vying for Quinn’s energy. “Casting directors must be clamoring to have you in their shows.”

Quinn pauses to snag one of Rachel’s onion rings, and it looks like Rachel wants to object to what Quinn just said.

“You are what makes Andy such a special character, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. That contract extension is proof,” she says without any uncertainty. “You were made for the stage, Rachel, and Broadway is so lucky to have you.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s unwavering support of her talent and ambition never fails to make Rachel’s heart soar. There’s a part of her—that little girl with the huge ego—that agrees with every word Quinn is saying. Rachel Berry is a star destined for unparalleled greatness. But the countless rejections before winning Andy had humbled her in a way nothing else could.

“I love that you’re so certain of that. Of me,” Rachel murmurs happily. “But there’s a lot of competition in the entertainment industry, Quinn, and absolutely no sure things. Today’s promising young ingénue could turn into tomorrow’s has-been just like that,” she says, snapping her fingers to illustrate her point.

“In any case, I am keeping an ear out for talk of new shows in the pipeline, and I’m hopeful that an opportunity will present itself before the end of my extension.”

 **QUINN:** “You’re no ingénue, Rachel. You’re a star,” she argues with a slight shake of her head. “You’re special. I’m sure the next opportunity will be there well before your extension ends. But I’m glad your fans will get to spend a little more time with you as Andy…” Quinn trails off, biting her lower lip. “I hope it’s not too forward of me, but I would love to see your show again before you take your final bow.”

 **RACHEL:** If they weren’t in the middle of a busy restaurant with a table separating them, Rachel would most certainly throw herself into Quinn’s arms right now and kiss her. It’s probably good that she can’t, because they’re supposed to be taking things slow in that regard, but Quinn makes that really hard to remember when she says such wonderful things. And, oh—the shy, dare she say enamored, expression on Quinn’s face is so beautiful to Rachel’s eyes. She’d much rather Quinn look at her like this than the tearful way she had been just before their food had arrived.

Grinning widely, Rachel assures her, “It’s not too forward at all, Quinn. I would love for you to come see my show again. I might even be able to get you into the front row if you give me enough time to arrange it.” Especially if she won’t need that second ticket this time—which is possibly not the most charitable thought Rachel could have. “You can even bring Kaitlyn again you’d like,” she offers politely.

And if all goes well, Rachel hopes that Quinn will be there for her final performance too—once Rachel has the date set in stone.

 **QUINN:** “Thank you,” she replies, loving the way Rachel seems to light up. “And I’m sure Kaitlyn would love to come again. I’ve caught her listening to the soundtrack more than once.”

Granted, that’s something Quinn has also done—she’s listened to “Not My Style” more times than she’d like to admit out loud to Rachel. But it’s still not the same as actually seeing her perform it in person. The way Rachel throws herself into her character adds a whole other layer.

“I can’t wait to see the show, but especially _you_ in the show, again,” Quinn adds happily before digging back into her meal. And this time, she’s able to enjoy it.

 **RACHEL:** She wishes that she’d had Quinn around when she was struggling to get a part. It would have done wonders for her ego. But those thoughts have the potential to lead Rachel down a sad path, and she doesn’t want to hold on to that particular grudge—not when she’s seen glimpses of what Quinn must have been struggling with at the time.

Rachel is becoming increasingly aware of just how difficult a path she might have ahead of her if she wants to be with Quinn, but it’s moments like this—when Quinn is smiling or being supportive or excited about her book or sharing one of her favorite restaurants and snagging onion rings off Rachel’s plate—that make Rachel certain it’s worth it. Quinn has always been worth it.

The silence between them now as they eat is a comfortable one, with Rachel stealing more fries from Quinn while Quinn enjoys more than a few onion rings. Before Rachel knows it, their plates are relatively clean and the waitress is back at their table.

 **QUINN:** “Can I get you girls anything else? Dessert?” their waitress asks as she picks up their now-empty plates.

“The ice cream here is really good,” Quinn says to Rachel, deciding that she can cheat a bit on her diet if it means Rachel gets the full experience of Holsten’s. “We could share a sundae, if you want?”

 **RACHEL:** She really, really shouldn’t indulge, especially since that homemade chocolate at the front of the shop isn’t going to let her leave without taking some home with her, but Rachel can just tell that Quinn really wants the ice cream, and well—this is an ice cream parlor after all. The hot chocolate she’d finished with her veggie burger had warmed her up sufficiently, and now the sundae sounds like a perfect way to finish their meal—sharing it with Quinn sounds even better.

“I think I want,” Rachel decides with a smile. “After all, one can’t come to an ice cream parlor and not get ice cream.” At Quinn’s happy grin, and Rachel asks, “What flavor are you in the mood for?”

 **QUINN:** “Hmm, I’m actually in the mood for something berry,” she says with a playful smile, appreciating the pretty blush that colors Rachel’s cheeks at her comment. “How do you feel about black raspberry ice cream?”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s flirtatious words instantly bring about an image of Quinn using her tongue to lick something other than ice cream, and Rachel feels her skin heat in response. Clearing her throat, Rachel runs her own tongue over her lips before answering Quinn.

“I am very strongly in favor of it,” she murmurs agreeably. “Especially if that’s what you have a taste for.”

Rachel has a feeling that if (when) Quinn decides to start flirting with intent, she’ll melt into a puddle at her feet.

 **QUINN:** She lifts an eyebrow at Rachel’s reply as her mind flashes with images of her tasting Rachel’s mouth again. “I’m glad to hear that,” she says, before reluctantly tearing her gaze away from soft, pink lips to look up at their waitress, who is watching them in amusement.

“So, what’ll it be?” she asks.

“A duster sundae with black raspberry ice cream, please,” Quinn replies. “With an extra cherry on top,” she finishes as she looks at Rachel again, lips curving up into a flirtatious smile.

 **RACHEL:** Oh—certain parts of Rachel are definitely feeling a little puddle-like already. The combination of Quinn’s husky voice followed by a provocative smile is lethal to Rachel’s equilibrium. No wonder Finn and Noah and Sam and that Joe person (and Santana, damn it!) had been helpless in the face of Quinn’s charms.

“You know, I can actually tie a cherry stem with my tongue,” Rachel hears herself confessing after their waitress walks away, blushing even more when her brain fully catches up to her mouth.

 **QUINN:** There’s something about the way Rachel looks when she blushes that Quinn finds adorably attractive, so she has a hard time reining in her flirting. But when Rachel confesses her ability to tie a cherry stem with her tongue, Quinn feels her own skin flush ever so slightly.

“Really?” Quinn asks, intrigued but certainly not surprised at Rachel’s talent, unconsciously licking her lips as she remembers just how skillfully Rachel used her tongue during their kiss at The Strand. “You’ll have to show me.”

 **RACHEL:** “I’ll be happy to,” Rachel assures her. In fact, there are a whole lot of things that she can do with her tongue that she’d love to show Quinn. The wicked thought of it has Rachel dragging her teeth over her lower lip as she gazes at Quinn through her lashes. “Anytime you like.”

 **QUINN:** Her stomach flutters pleasantly at Rachel’s words and the way her lower lip is caught between white teeth, and Quinn breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to keep her mind from falling into the gutter completely. As much as Quinn wants to go there with Rachel, there’s still a lot they need to talk about before they can.

“Soon,” Quinn murmurs with a hint of promise before she catches sight of their waitress returning with their dessert.

“Here you go, girls,” she says as she places their sundae and two spoons between them. “Enjoy.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s 'soon’ is as exciting as it is frustrating. What does 'soon’ even mean? Does it mean an hour from now, a day, a month? There’s no definitive quantitative meaning to soon!

Rachel is still contemplating how soon Quinn’s 'soon’ might actually be when a decadent looking sundae is placed on the table between them. Black raspberry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and two maraschino cherries. Sadly, the cherries are stemless, so Rachel’s demonstration of her stem-tying prowess will have to wait.

Quinn thanks the waitress before turning her attention back to Rachel and their dessert, and Rachel picks up one of the spoons, gesturing to the sundae. “After you.”

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t know whether to be a little disappointed or relieved that there aren’t any stems on the cherries, but Quinn knows that it’s better not to add more fuel to the fire of her imagination. Not just yet.

Quinn sends Rachel another smile before picking up her spoon and scooping out some of that black raspberry ice cream. But just because she’s been given a reprieve of Rachel’s teasing doesn’t mean Quinn still can’t do some of her own.

The second the ice cream hits her tongue, Quinn closes her eyes and savors the taste of berries, chocolate, and whipped cream.

“Mmm, it’s almost as sweet as you,” she says with the most innocent smile she can muster as she opens her eyes, taking in Rachel’s expression and feeling very smug.

 **RACHEL:** The spoon nearly falls right out of Rachel’s hand, and her mouth does fall open as she watches the sensual way Quinn slides her spoon out of her mouth and the look of bliss that crosses her features. And then—her comment! Oh, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing!

Rachel is surprised that the ice cream hasn’t already melted from the heat that she can feel radiating off her body. Well, two can play at this game!

“I suppose I’ll have to test that hypothesis,” Rachel challenges with a wicked grin.

She dips her own spoon into the sundae, carefully collecting the ice cream, syrup, and whipped cream in a balanced ratio before slipping it purposefully between her lips, closing her own eyes, and humming in exaggerated pleasure. And really, it’s not all that exaggerated—the combination of the raspberry and chocolate is unquestionably delicious.

Rachel slides the spoon out of her mouth slowly, swallowing the ice cream and opening her eyes so she can watch Quinn as she deliberately turns the spoon over and licks it clean.

Darkened hazel eyes follow every movement.

Smiling slyly, Rachel tilts her head. “Hmm. No. I don’t think I’m nearly this sweet.”

 **QUINN:** 'Oh, sweet Jesus,’ is the only coherent thought in Quinn’s mind as she watches Rachel play Quinn at her own game. And honestly, she loves every second of it, not having ever seen this side of Rachel.

Oh, sure, they’ve flirted before, but Rachel had always maintained an air of sweetness about her, and Quinn has done the same. Now, it’s charged with something that has the potential to catch fire and burn out of control. Quinn can’t say she doesn’t like it.

In fact, “I guess I’ll have to do my own hypothesis later to be absolutely sure,” she says with a smirk before taking another spoonful of ice cream, momentarily throwing caution to the wind.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s breath catches at Quinn’s coy promise, and her mind spins with all the many ways that Quinn could test out her hypothesis using Rachel as a subject. “I’ll be happy to assist you in any way you need,” Rachel murmurs helpfully.

Quinn’s only response is a contemplative hum as she continues to savor her ice cream—her smirk growing even more pronounced. Rachel can’t say that she’s disappointed by it. Her own lips curve into a playful grin, and she follows Quinn’s example by claiming another spoonful of her own.

The sundae between them slowly disappears amidst an artful battle of silent teasing—smiles and spoons and tongues peeking out to clean every last drop of the melting concoction. Rachel had never imagined ice cream could be such a heated form of foreplay, and she can’t imagine what might happen next.

 **QUINN:** 'It’s all about the teasing,’ she tries to remind herself as she and Rachel slowly finish off their dessert, but honestly, at this point, Quinn has a hard remembering why that’s her objective.

It’s still something of a wonder that Rachel is even here with her now, on a date, sharing ice cream, flirting, and wanting something more.

'Am I dreaming?’ Quinn asks herself not for the first time as hazel eyes roam over Rachel—brown eyes shining with happiness and plump lips promising something much more sinful than this sundae that they’re sharing. 'And if I’m not, do I deserve it?’

But as she watches Rachel lick the last bit of whipped cream from her spoon, Quinn forgets all about her current conundrum.

 **RACHEL:** After cleaning her spoon—an action that is ninety percent dramatic effect and ten percent not wanting to waste a single taste of the dessert—Rachel drops it back into the empty dish with a musical clink and proceeds to lick her lips—one hundred percent dramatic effect intended for seduction. Logically, she knows what they’re doing right now can’t really lead them to any kind of satisfactory conclusion. Quinn likely still isn’t completely ready for a romantic relationship, and Rachel really needs her to be before they follow this sexy flirtation to its natural conclusion. She wouldn’t be at all opposed to more of her magnificent kisses though.

Despite knowing all of this, Rachel can’t resist letting her lips curve into a teasing grin. “That was the most delicious sundae I’ve ever tasted,” she practically purrs. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

 **QUINN:** The timbre of Rachel’s voice sends a subtle rush through Quinn—the urge to kiss Rachel growing even more.

“It was my pleasure,” she replies with a teasing smile of her own. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

And Quinn really is glad—relieved, even—that, despite the emotional detour they had earlier, Rachel enjoyed her time here with Quinn.

 **RACHEL:** “I very much enjoyed it,” Rachel confirms, still smiling. Even with their emotional detour earlier, Rachel would rather be here with Quinn than anywhere else, and she’s really glad that Quinn had brought her here.

Their waitress reappears then, collecting their empty sundae dish from the table. “Are you girls ready for your check? Or can I get you something else? Another hot chocolate? Coffee?”

“I think we’re ready for the check,” Rachel says, glancing at Quinn for confirmation. Although she’d probably be content to sit here for a while longer, part of her is hoping that she and Quinn can finally go someplace where they can be alone.

 **QUINN:** She nods at Rachel before looking toward their waitress. “You can bring us the check,” Quinn confirms.

“Got it right here for you,” she replies, pulling it out of the pocket of her apron and placing it face down on the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Quinn says, before reaching for the check, snagging it just before Rachel tries to do the same. “This one’s on me,” she states with a determined shake of her head as she reaches for her purse.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn edges Rachel out for the check, much to Rachel’s annoyance. She really needs to work on being faster with her reflexes or she’ll never have the chance to treat Quinn. Sitting back in the booth, Rachel crosses her arms as she watches Quinn pull out her card to pay for their lunches—making this very much a 'date’ date.

“Thank you, Quinn,” she murmurs appreciatively, letting her lips quirk into a crooked grin. “I don’t suppose you’d at least allow me to leave the tip?”

 **QUINN:** She considers Rachel’s question for a moment. “If you’d like,” Quinn agrees with a small nod. “I actually pay at the front counter,” she explains as she slides out of the booth. “I’ll be right back,” she promises, sending Rachel another smile before heading to the register, feeling brown eyes follow her movement to the front of the restaurant.

Quinn knows she needs to start to dial her flirtations back, because soon they’re going to be alone, and Rachel needs to better understand what being in a relationship—romantic or platonic—with Quinn could possibly entail.

 **RACHEL:** Her eyes follow Quinn as she walks away from the table—possibly appreciating the view of Quinn’s very nice backside a little more than she probably should in polite company. Shaking herself out of her leering, Rachel takes a last sip from her water glass before reaching for her own purse, but she frowns when she pulls out her wallet and realizes that she doesn’t actually know what the check totaled to know the appropriate tip amount. Oh well, their waitress was lovely and very tolerant of the emotional drama that she’d glimpsed, so Rachel sets a twenty dollar bill on the table for her.

After tucking her wallet back into her purse, she looks up to see Quinn already returning to the table, so she gathers her coat and prepares for their inevitable departure—after she buys some of that chocolate.

 **QUINN:** She puts her credit card back in her purse before putting on her coat and catching sight of the tip Rachel left. Quinn raises her eyebrows at the amount—it’s almost as much as their bill—but she’s certainly not going to argue with Rachel’s generosity.

They make their way to the front of the store, and once again Quinn is hit with the scent of homemade chocolate. Rachel slows her steps to take stock of the merchandise.

“Do you want to get something?” Quinn asks with a knowing grin.

 **RACHEL:** Everything behind the candy counter looks so good. There are chocolate covered cherries, creams, nuts, and truffles on display in neat rows, and one section containing several flavors of fudge. Rachel wants to sample them all—to hell with her diet. She won’t, of course, but she can indulge in the thought if not the action.

At Quinn’s question, Rachel turns to her with a grin. “I was just about to stop you. I know I shouldn’t…I’ve been bad enough today, indulging with the ice cream…but it just smells so good. I think I need to take a small box home to sample,” she admits, reaching for her wallet once again.

“What about you? Can I buy some sweets for my…valentine?” she asks a little shyly, barely stopping herself from calling Quinn her 'sweetheart’ instead.

 **QUINN:** 'My valentine.’

It’s ridiculous how much those two simple words affect her, making Quinn feel warm all over. “You already gave me something sweet for Valentine’s Day,” she says with a soft smile, thinking of the homemade, heart-shaped cookies Rachel baked for her. “But thank you.”

 **RACHEL:** Nodding her understanding, Rachel approaches the counter, and the clerk behind it is soon waiting on her. Rachel has already decided to limit her indulgence to an eight ounce box of assorted milk chocolates, and she tells the clerk as much, waiting the few moments it takes for him to collect one of the premade boxes from behind the counter.

Glancing over to Quinn, she sees her browsing the display case, but her casual perusal seems to be more of a way to distract herself while Rachel pays for her purchase than a genuine longing for a particular piece of chocolate. After ringing up the sale and collecting her payment, the clerk slips Rachel’s box of candy into a bag and slides it across the counter, and she thanks him for his help before turning back to Quinn.

“I’m all set,” she announces, holding up her bag with a smile. “What do you have planned for me next?”

 **QUINN:** 'Go back to my place, put on a movie and not watch it,’ is the automatic thought Quinn has at Rachel’s question. But that’s skipping _way_ too many important steps and will likely end in disaster.

No, it’s time that they finally had a long-overdue talk, and Quinn knows that’s what Rachel deserves.

“If you have time, I thought we could go back to my place, have some tea, and just… talk,” she says, hoping she doesn’t look as vulnerable as she feels at the prospect.

 **RACHEL:** Her stomach dips and swirls at the thought of finally—finally!—being completely alone with Quinn. Under different circumstances, Rachel’s body would probably be thrumming with anticipation after all the flirting and teasing they’d done over their dessert, but she knows that Quinn’s mention of tea and talking isn’t a euphemism for more intimate activities.

This talk is so long overdue, and Rachel still has so many things that she needs to know.

“I have all the time in the world, Quinn,” Rachel promises her softly, reaching out to gently rest a hand over her biceps. She can read the anxiety in hazel eyes, and she wants nothing more than to reassure Quinn that she’s ready to go wherever their conversation will take them. “I’d love to go back to your apartment and talk.”

 **QUINN:** She takes comfort in Rachel’s touch and assuring tone, knowing that trusting Rachel is the right thing to do, despite her own nerves about it all. And really, it boils down to shame—something that Quinn is still working to overcome.

Quinn nods at Rachel then. “Okay, then let’s go,” she says before pushing the door open for Rachel, causing Rachel’s hand to fall away from her biceps. She misses the contact, so as soon as Rachel is through the door, Quinn automatically reaches for her hand.

 **RACHEL:** When Quinn’s hand slips inside of hers, it makes Rachel feel warm all over despite the cold air. She entwines their fingers together with a smile, content to quietly walk back to the car at Quinn’s side as she marvels at just how comfortable this simple action is.

Quinn doesn’t let go of Rachel’s hand when they arrive back at the car, instead escorting her to the passenger door and opening it for Rachel, who has to bite into her lip to keep from giggling in delight at the gallant gesture.

“Thank you, Quinn,” she murmurs before slipping into the car, adoring the pleased grin that pulls up the corners of Quinn’s mouth.

The car door closes behind her, and Rachel finally does let out a giggle as she watches Quinn cross around the back of the car through the mirrors. She retrieves her rose from the dashboard, briefly lifting it to her nose to inhale its scent once again before cradling it to her chest just as Quinn opens the driver’s side door.

 **QUINN:** The drive back to Quinn’s apartment is similar to the one they had going to Holsten's—a ten-minute journey filled with Rachel singing along to the Supremes, and it’s such a treat getting to listen to her favorite songs sung by the most beautiful voice she’s ever heard.

It helps Quinn stay focused on the present, enjoying being in the now, instead of stressing about the conversation come. And when the track changes to “Get Ready,” Quinn can’t stop from finally singing along as well. But soon it becomes more than that. It’s almost like they’re singing to each other, and it makes Quinn’s hopeful that things can some day work out between romantically.

But all too soon, Quinn is pulling into the long driveway that leads to the parking lot behind her apartment building, and as she puts her car into park, a fresh wave of nerves rises up.

 **RACHEL:** The drive to Quinn’s apartment offers Rachel the unexpected pleasure of hearing Quinn sing again—and better yet, of singing with her. Rachel’s breath catches and her own voice drops out for just a moment to allow the rich, smoky quality of Quinn’s singing voice to wash over her. Quinn has either improved over the years or Rachel is simply being affected by her intonation on a more visceral level than she’d ever been before.

The interruption to her own singing doesn’t last long—she’s not about to pass up the chance for an impromptu duet—though she does nearly stumble over the refrain in the lyrics of 'I’m on my way’ because it brings up one very unwanted memory. Rachel forces that away, focusing instead on the present and how closely some of the lyrics align with Rachel’s own feelings, and she finds herself hoping that Quinn might be feeling the same thing.

Soon enough, they’re at Quinn’s apartment complex, and Rachel takes in the quaint, red brick building accented by surrounding trees (that are currently bare and ravaged by the winter months) while Quinn ducks into her backseat to retrieve her container of cookies. Rachel has her own candy and the rose firmly in her hands, though the candy would probably hold up just fine in the car thanks to the chilly temperature.

“It seems like a lovely neighborhood,” she comments after Quinn has locked the car. “Do you and Kaitlyn like living here?”

 **QUINN:** “We do,” she replies, looking back toward Rachel, whose hands are currently occupied to Quinn’s mild disappointment. But then, Rachel would probably notice her subtly growing tension, so maybe it’s for the best she thinks as they start walking toward her building’s entrance.

“It’s close to the train—I could walk there if I wanted to—and I’m close to all the roads that take me where I want to go,” Quinn continues. “But the neighborhood around here is pretty nice—good restaurants and there’s a park not too far from here. And Montclair is the next town over, and there’s a ton of stuff to do there. And, well, that’s also where Beth lives, which I’m sure you know.”

She catches her lower lip between her teeth then, wondering if she’s talking too much as she chances a glance at Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** “I do,” Rachel responds at the mention of Beth. “When you first told me where you were living, I almost mentioned how close you were to Shelby, but I…I didn’t know where you stood with Beth,” she admits, smiling apologetically. “I guess we were both afraid of broaching the subject.”

Quinn silently nods her understanding as she leads Rachel into the building, but her nervousness is almost palpable, and Rachel feels her own nerves tickling her belly. She’s been waiting months for this moment—the chance to talk to Quinn, face-to-face, in private, with no prying eyes or potential interruptions.

Unless—

“Is Kaitlyn home today?” Rachel finally thinks to ask.

 **QUINN:** “No,” she answers with a slight shake of her head as they make their way through the lobby and toward the staircase that will take them to the second floor. “She’s spending the day at her boyfriend’s,” Quinn explains as they climb the stairs. “She probably won’t be home until after dinner, so… it’s just you and me.”

 **RACHEL:** Her old friends, the butterflies, do a little cheer at Quinn’s words. “I’m glad,” Rachel murmurs unthinkingly. It’s not that she doesn’t like Kaitlyn—she’d seemed very nice when they met—but she’s thrilled to finally have Quinn alone.

At Quinn’s arched eyebrow, Rachel blushes in mild embarrassment. “I’ve been wanting to be alone with you for awhile, Quinn.” She doubts it’s any surprise. “And I know that we still have a lot we need to talk about, so I’m glad you finally feel comfortable enough with me to take this step.”

 **QUINN:** “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of terrified,” Quinn admits quietly, before turning away to look down at her doorknob in order to unlock it. “But you’re important to me, and I want this to work, so I know I can’t hide my past from you forever—because otherwise, we can’t have a future.”

They might not have a future anyway, once Rachel knows all there is to know, but… faith. Quinn has faith and hope that it will be okay, relatively speaking.

Pushing her door open, she steps inside her apartment and turns her gaze upon Rachel once more. “And I really do want to have a future with you.”

 **RACHEL:** Despite the knowledge that she and Quinn have some potentially painful discussions ahead of them, Rachel can’t stop the joy that surges through her when she hears that Quinn wants a future with her. It means everything to her.

“I want that too.”

She wants it so, so much.

She wants to drop her candy and the rose—well, maybe not the rose—on the floor and throw her arms around Quinn and never let her go. She’s certain that Quinn can probably see all of her emotions shining in her eyes.

Rachel doesn’t drop the candy, but she does unabashedly step over to the nearest flat surface, which happens to be a small end table, to set down the bag of candy and the rose before she walks right into Quinn, embracing her in a tight hug. She really can’t help herself, and she breathes out a sigh of pleasure when Quinn returns the hug.

“You’re so important to me, Quinn,” she promises gently, close to Quinn’s ear. “And you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

After all, Rachel can be very, very stubborn when she has her heart set on something—and it’s very much set on Quinn.

 **QUINN:** When Rachel wraps her arms around her, Quinn’s sense are flooded in the best way possible—all of her fears and anxieties momentarily disappear because all she knows is the support and affection and comfort that Rachel gives her.

Quinn wraps her own arms around Rachel, drawing strength from the promise she gives her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, but Quinn is in no hurry to let go. Being in Rachel’s arms feels so right, and she wants to savor it for as long as she can.

But after several long moments, Quinn gives Rachel a light squeeze before finally, reluctantly, letting go. She feels Rachel do the same, and for a moment, they simply gaze at one another, and Quinn feels settled.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Quinn says after a beat, gesturing toward the couch and the love seat in her living room. “And I’ll go make us some tea. What would you like? I have almost anything you could want.”

 **RACHEL:** Her arms feel decidedly empty when she’s forced to part from Quinn, but they’re here in Quinn’s apartment, and they have hours just to be together, so Rachel is content. Smiling at Quinn, she begins to unbutton her coat as she takes a cursory glance around the apartment.

The living room is cozy and neatly arranged, and the plush sofa and loveseat look inviting. There’s a shelf filled with books lining one of the walls, and Rachel imagines that the majority of them likely belong to Quinn. The area leads into a small 'dining room’ consisting of a small table and four chairs, and she can see a glimpse of the kitchen through the serving window cut into the wall.

“I think I’m in the mood for some English tea, if you have it,” Rachel decides, shrugging off her coat. “If not, green tea or chamomile is fine.”

 **QUINN:** “Here, let me take that,” Quinn says, holding her free hand out to take Rachel’s coat from her. “And I have English breakfast tea,” she confirms before walking over to the closet closest to the living room to hang both hers and Rachel’s coats up.

Coats put away, Quinn closes the closet door and steals a glance at Rachel, who is perusing the bookshelf. Pink lips curve up into a smile at the sight. Rachel’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.

There’s movement at her feet that draws Quinn’s attention, and she looks down to see Piazza peering curiously at the new person in their space. “Hi, Piazza,” Quinn says softly, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Want to meet my friend Rachel?” she asks, before looking back up to see brown eyes gazing at them in pleasant surprise.

 **RACHEL:** The little ball of gray fur that appears at Quinn’s feet is the most adorable thing that Rachel has ever seen, and she grins widely at the sight of Quinn and that cat gazing up at her with matching curious eyes.

“Oh, my,” Rachel breathes out happily, inching closer as she bends at the waist to get a better look at the cat and the beautiful blue eyes currently trying to determine what to make of her. “Aren’t you the cutest thing?” she coos.

Rachel has been thinking more and more about getting a cat of her own now that she has her own apartment—a dog would just be too demanding of time that she just doesn’t have right now—but she hasn’t made it to the shelter yet. She’s a little afraid that she’ll want to take all of the animals home the way she’d wanted to take them home when she’d participated in Broadway Barks last summer. Sadly, she’d still been trying to get used to having a new show, new success and fame, and a new apartment at the time, so she hadn’t been quite ready to incorporate an animal into her life.

She’s been settling for cuddling on her friends’ animals.

“Do you think she’ll let me pet her? Or him?” Rachel asks, meeting Quinn’s eyes uncertainly. She’d assumed it’s a girl from the name that Quinn had used—Piazza—but she supposes that doesn’t necessarily have to be the case.

The cat, having prowled closer to her as she’d spoken, decides to answer one of Rachel’s questions on its own by tentatively sniffing around her boot before rubbing a cheek against her calf in a silent demand for attention.

Giggling in delight, Rachel reaches down to gently sift her fingertips over the soft fur of Piazza’s head.

 **QUINN:** “It looks like she likes you,” Quinn observes with a growing smile, loving how happy Rachel looks petting Piazza—and the gentle purring that follows just adds to it. “She’s a good judge of character, just like her mother. Piazza is Kaitlyn’s baby, by the way, not mine,” Quinn clarifies at Rachel’s questioning look. “But she looks out for me too.”

With Rachel’s head lowered and how close Quinn is to her, the temptation to shift forward to kiss Rachel is incredibly strong. She manages to hold herself back—instead biting down on her lower lip and momentarily getting lost in the depths of Rachel’s gaze.

 **RACHEL:** For a moment, Rachel thinks that Quinn is going to kiss her, but instead, she catches her lip between her teeth and simply continues to gaze at Rachel through shining, hazel eyes. There’s a lingering vulnerability there that Rachel has never been able to resist, even in the days when their relationship had been at its worst. Something about those eyes has always made her ache to know everything that Quinn is thinking and feeling. That hasn’t changed in all these years.

Rachel’s captivation with Quinn’s beauty hasn’t changed either. There’s a part of her that can’t believe she’s really here with Quinn or that Quinn actually wants a future with her. It’s not something that she could have ever wrapped her mind around when they were younger—for so many reasons. How could Rachel Berry, glee club captain and bottom of the social ladder, have ever imagined that someday she’d actually get to kiss Quinn Fabray, president of the celibacy club and head cheerleader? Or that she’d be desperate for the chance to do it again?

Smiling shyly, Rachel drops her own gaze down to Piazza, whose blue eyes are half closed in pleasure. Her purrs are practically vibrating Rachel’s fingers.

“She’s beautiful,” Rachel murmurs, and she’s not completely sure if she’s talking about Piazza or to her—because Quinn’s beauty seems like a truth that Piazza should appreciate as much as Rachel does.

 **QUINN:** “She is,” she agrees with a soft smile. “And I’m sure she’ll be happy to keep you company while I get our tea ready.”

Quinn returns to her feet then and makes the short walk into the kitchen. The tea kettle is still sitting on the stove from when she used it this morning, so she grabs a hold of it, rinses it out in the sink, and fills it with fresh water. After firing up the stove to boil the water, Quinn goes about retrieving two dark blue mugs from the cabinet and two bags of English breakfast tea from the pantry.

The task gives Quinn something to focus on, because the nerves that had momentarily settled are threatening to return. Occasionally, she steals glances at Rachel through the serving window, glad that Piazza is keeping her company while she waits on the couch and that Rachel seems happy to have purring ball of gray fur curled up on her lap.

It doesn’t take too long for the kettle to whistle, signally the water is ready, and Quinn is quick to turn off the stove.

“Do you want any milk or sugar?” Quinn asks as she finishes pouring the steaming water into their mugs, realizing she has no idea how Rachel likes her tea.

 **RACHEL:** After Quinn gets up and heads into the kitchen, Rachel moves to the sofa to wait, pleasantly surprised when Piazza follows her, jumping up to commandeer her lap. With a quiet laugh, Rachel resumes petting her. “You’re a little cuddle monster, aren’t you?”

When Quinn calls out to ask her how she likes her tea, Rachel automatically glances toward the kitchen though she can’t really see Quinn. “No milk. I’ll take it black with a teaspoon of sugar please.”

A simple 'okay’ is Quinn’s only response. A few moments later, she pads back into the living room with two steaming mugs of tea in her hands—the strings of the tea bags still hanging over the sides—and offers one to Rachel, who reaches up to take it with a grateful smile as Quinn settles onto the sofa beside her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, lifting the hand that had been stroking Piazza to cradle her mug and inhaling the soothing scent of steeping tea. “You’re such a good hostess,” she compliments with a teasing grin.

 **QUINN:** “I try,” she replies with a small quirk of her lips, but now that Quinn is here on the couch—next to Rachel and ready to spill the less-than-happy aspects of her past and her ever-present disorder—her smile is definitely strained.

She looks down at Rachel’s lap for a moment, seeing how utterly content Piazza is—how safe she obviously feels—and tries to remind herself that she’s just as safe here with Rachel. Rachel is in this with her. Quinn just prays that the truth doesn’t scare her away.

“I’m not really sure where to start,” Quinn says, drawing her gaze back up to meet warm brown. “But… like I said before, I want a future with you. But you… you deserve—and need—to know what it means to be with someone like me. I’m not easy to be with, Rachel,” she confesses. “Even though I want to be—I want to be the best partner—sometimes I just can’t. My mind won’t let me.”

 **RACHEL:** In theory, Rachel understands what Quinn keeps trying to tell her about her mind not allowing her do things, but she’s also very aware of the fact that she isn’t able to fully comprehend it in any way that she can relate back to her own experiences. She supposes the closest she can come to it is the unfortunate knowledge that she cannot actually will a thing into being simply because she wants it desperately and believes she can make it happen. Finn’s death, her initial career failures, her relationship with Riley, and even having Quinn reappear back in her life have all taught her that sometimes, things just spiral out of control no matter how hard she tries to keep a hold of them.

Trying to keep that in her mind as an admittedly poor reference, Rachel offers Quinn an encouraging nod. “I really want to understand better. I’ve done a little reading on bipolar disorder since you first told me you have it,” she admits, “but I know I’m only getting generalities. I need you to tell me the specifics of how it affects you and how I can help you get through any episodes you have, because I really do want that future with you too, Quinn,” she vows with conviction, reaching out to brush her fingers over the back of Quinn’s hand where it rests against her thigh.

Quinn’s eyes glisten, and she draws in a thready breath before turning her hand over and entwining their fingers together with a grateful squeeze. Smiling softly, Rachel encourages her to, “Just take your time and tell me what you can. Maybe you can just…start at the beginning,” she suggests carefully, knowing that the beginning seems to be whatever had happened after Finn’s death.

 **QUINN:** The beginning. There’s two ways she could tackle that—telling Rachel all the things that happened in her formative years that likely contributed to her bipolar disorder or telling Rachel about her first episode. But Quinn suspects that Rachel intends for her to do the latter, and as difficult as that is, it’s easier than admitting just how deep and far back it goes.

It helps having Rachel’s hand to hold on to.

“Looking back, there were a few times in high school where I had symptoms, but the episodes were short and relatively mild compared to what they’re like now that I’m an adult,” she explains, thinking back to the beginning of senior year of high school. “But technically, I had my first full-blown episode shortly after I got to Yale. It was a hypomanic episode,” Quinn admits with a frown, feeling a familiar bubble of shame over the things that happened during that time.

“I felt like I could do anything, and that included stupid and risky things—like getting involved with my married professor…” she trails off, shaking her head, unable to look at Rachel. She only ever told Santana about that, and even then, it wasn’t the complete truth.

“Then I just kind of snapped out of it. And things were mostly okay until… until Finn died.”

 **RACHEL:** She knows about the professor, of course. Santana Lopez doesn’t keep secrets as much as she sits on a juicy piece of gossip until she thinks it will either cause the most damage or be the most fun for her—typically it’s both at the same time. Frankly, Rachel is surprised that she’d waited as long as she had to drop the bomb about her night with Quinn, although she suspects that was mostly due to the fact that Quinn had disappeared not very long after it happened. That was what sent Santana off on a biting rant about how she’d probably run off with the married professor that she’d been sleeping with—though she’d phrased it far more colorfully.

Rachel doesn’t mention any of that to Quinn. Instead, she squeezes Quinn’s hand at the mention of Finn’s death. Even Piazza seems aware of the tension in the air, slipping off Rachel’s lap and repositioning herself between them on the sofa cushion.

“And you felt guilty,” Rachel recalls sadly, “because he…he didn’t get to have the same second chance that you had,” she surmises from what Quinn had told her at Holsten’s.

 **QUINN:** She nods slowly, hesitant about revealing the whole truth. “That’s part of it,” Quinn confirms, chickening out of telling Rachel about how she had also harbored feelings for Rachel and wished Finn out of the picture. It exacerbated Quinn’s survivor’s guilt even more.

“But the guilt was crippling, and I had never been so depressed in my life… I couldn’t control my thoughts or feelings,” she explains, brow furrowing as she recalls how quickly she had slipped into depression. “I couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t eat, couldn’t bear to see anyone, and I never hated myself as much as I did then. I wanted to die.”

 **RACHEL:** She closes her eyes at Quinn’s confession—the words dragging Rachel into the visceral memory of her own grief and depression. She’d experienced her own version of all of it, and it’s a place that Rachel doesn’t particularly care to go back to, but she needs to do this for Quinn. She needs to understand.

“Did you…?” Rachel begins roughly, stopping herself as her pained gaze finds Quinn again. “You didn’t try to…?”

She can’t seem to finish asking the question, and she shakes her head helplessly, hating the thought that Quinn might have tried to take her own life—but she hasn’t forgotten what Quinn had told her months ago at that charity luncheon.

 **QUINN:** Her stomach twists unpleasantly at the memories Rachel’s question evokes. “Not then,” she replies a bit shakily. “Even though the thoughts were there, playing on a loop in my head, I was too depressed to actually attempt…” Quinn trails off once more, chancing a glance at Rachel, taking in her pained expression, and Quinn feels her own shame grow.

“That happened later, after… after I started taking an antidepressant,” she confesses before closing her eyes and letting out a frustrated breath. “After Finn’s accident, my roommate at the time tried to get me to go talk to someone and try to go to my classes, which didn’t work. I just… couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. And the semester was almost over, which meant finals and then having to go back to Lima. I couldn't… I couldn’t go back there and face you and all of your pain.”

Quinn swallows thickly, feeling Rachel give her hand another gentle squeeze. “It just seemed to get worse with every passing day, until finally I grew desperate enough to get help like my roommate had been trying to get me to do for weeks. I saw a doctor, and he prescribed me an antidepressant. He didn’t know I had bipolar—neither did I, I didn’t even know what that was—but it’s usually not a good thing to take if you do.”

“I swung into a manic episode, and for the first couple of days, it was an almost euphoric experience. I didn’t need to sleep or eat, and I had so many big plans—ridiculous plans that didn’t make any sense—but I couldn’t focus long enough to really put any of them into action. Then… things took a bad turn.” She presses her lips together, trying to figure out how to describe what happened next. Some of it she doesn’t really remember, and some of it she remembers all too well.

 **RACHEL:** Her heart breaks a little more with every word, knowing that Quinn had been struggling with this on her own while Rachel had been surrounded by her friends and family—all of them helping her to slowly navigate through her grief over Finn. Quinn shouldn’t have been alone. Rachel wishes so badly that she—someone—could have been there for Quinn, and she wants to find that doctor who’d misdiagnosed her and slap him with a malpractice suit.

“What happened?” she asks quietly, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears. It won’t do Quinn any good for her to start crying over things that can’t be changed. She wants to be strong for her—to prove that she can handle all of the painful truths of Quinn’s past and present.

 **QUINN:** “I was going out again, but since I didn’t feel like sleeping, I just didn’t go back to my room for four or five days. I stayed out, using my fake ID to get into bars around New Haven, meeting girls. It was such a rush,” she admits, leaving out the explicit details of just what she did with those girls, thinking Rachel wouldn’t appreciate it much.

“But I was getting increasingly manic, and the euphoria changed into irritability. I had no control, and it started to become uncomfortable,” Quinn continues, her own tension growing as she recounts this particular episode. “Eventually I went back to my dorm, but I couldn’t get in. My phone was dead, and I had left my keys inside, but my roommate had moved out. I missed the move out date.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she admits. “My thoughts were racing, and I couldn’t even remember what I was trying to do—I felt like I was being pulled in a million directions. At some point, I must have stopped taking my medication, because then I started to swing back the other way.”

Quinn lets out a long, shaky breath. “I knew the darkness that was coming, and I couldn’t bear to go through that again.”

 **RACHEL:** There’s a knot in Rachel’s stomach that keeps getting pulled tighter with every word out of Quinn’s mouth. She doesn’t want to think about Quinn bar-hopping with a fake ID or what she might have been doing with those girls—or how many there had been—to keep her out for five days. Anything could have happened to her.

Rachel knows that something terrible almost did.

“Was your roommate not worried about you?” Rachel hears herself asking shakily, not sure that she’s completely ready to hear about whatever Quinn had tried to do to herself once her manic episode had passed. “Didn’t she report you missing? Wasn’t anyone looking for you?”

Rachel feels sick at the thought that the person Quinn had been living with might not have cared that she’d disappeared after having been so depressed—that she was left alone to—

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, looking into Quinn’s pained eyes. “I…I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I know this is already hard enough for you. I don’t want to make it harder,” she says, squeezing Quinn’s hand in support.

 **QUINN:** “It’s okay,” she says, appreciating Rachel’s concern. “My roommate was very worried,” Quinn clarifies. “She had been trying to call me, but like I said, my phone was dead. She alerted campus security. They called my mom, so she was actually in New Haven at the time, looking for me.”

Quinn swallows thickly before running her free hand through her hair. “I just… if I had been in my right mind, if I had been able to string together one sensible thought, I would have just gone to Yale’s housing department and gotten things straightened out, but I was spiraling, Rachel,” she admits, shaking her head sadly.

“All I knew was crushing guilt and sadness, and I… thought I saw Finn,” she recalls, remembering how he looked at her, asking her if she was happy now that he was dead. She can’t quite bring herself to tell Rachel that though. “I don’t know if it was just because of a lack of sleep or because I had some sort of break, but I was hallucinating. It’s the only time that’s ever happened to me.”

She lets out another long breath, knowing that Rachel isn’t going to take this next part well at all. “I ended up at the Mill River in New Haven,” Quinn confesses, hearing Rachel suck in a sharp breath, but can’t bear to look at her. She hesitates, unable to bring herself to give the gory details. “I thought it was a fitting place to go.”

 **RACHEL:** “No,” Rachel chokes out through a tight throat. For a moment, she feels like she’s the one drowning. Her grip on Quinn’s hand tightens, and she squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, trying to block out the memories that are assaulting her. She concentrates on moving oxygen in and out of her lungs, and when she finally feels like she can breath again, she leans forward slightly—still gripping Quinn’s hand—and carefully places her cup of tea on the coffee table next to Quinn’s with a trembling hand.

She can’t really stop the tears that are spilling over her cheeks now as everything comes crashing back over her—the memory of how Finn had died. How he and a couple of the guys he’d met at Lima University in the classes he’d been auditing had decided to drive to the Lima Reservoir; how they’d taken a small motorboat out on the Ottawa River; how they’d had a cooler of beer with them; how the boat had ended up capsized; how Finn had been caught underneath it; how no one had been able to get to him in time…

How Rachel had blamed herself for not being there; for not being Finn’s girlfriend or fiancée or wife and keeping him from doing something so stupid.

And now, to know that Quinn had gone to the river in New Haven to…

“Oh, God,” Rachel rasps, using her free hand—trembling as it is—to try to wipe away her tears before she turns her watery eyes back to Quinn. Quinn, who’s telling her that she might have died the same way Finn had. “What…what did you do?” she whispers brokenly.

 **QUINN:** She tries to answer Rachel’s question, but the words get stuck in her throat, as tears finally escape from hazel eyes. Seeing Rachel’s grief up close, knowing that she’s the one who’s causing it, has Quinn feeling guiltier than she has in a long time. This was never going to be an easy conversation, but it’s harder than Quinn thought it would be.

She hates being the source for Rachel’s pain, and Quinn feels like she’s just reopened a wound by making her remember just how tragic Finn’s death was, and like she’s pouring salt in the wound by telling her about her own suicidal ideation.

Quinn shakes her head. How can she explain the actual attempt without hurting Rachel more?

 **RACHEL:** Dragging in a breath, Rachel attempts to pull herself back together and tries to focus on Quinn, who’s clearly struggling as much as Rachel is. Finn has been gone for nearly seven years now—the remembered pain of losing him still takes her by surprise from time to time, the way it is right now—but Quinn is alive and in front of her, hurting, and Rachel can’t let the past overshadow her future.

Rachel reaches out to cup Quinn’s cheek, hating the way she flinches away from her touch. She can’t seem to meet Rachel’s eyes, but Rachel isn’t deterred, gently brushing at the tears on her cheek until Quinn’s wounded eyes are searching hers.

“Please, Quinn,” she begs softly. “I need you to tell me what happened next.”

 **QUINN:** She searches Rachel’s eyes for a few more moments before finally caving. She’s always had a hard time saying no to Rachel.

“I was going to drown myself,” she confesses quietly, her stomach twisting unpleasantly at the memory and the pained look on Rachel’s face. Quinn closes her eyes then, unable to look at her for this next part. “I didn’t really have a thought-out plan, I just acted. I just walked right into that river, hoping it would swallow me.”

 **RACHEL:** Closing her eyes again, Rachel swallows down her cry of dismay—unable to hold back the horrible image that her mind conjures of Quinn disappearing beneath the murky water. “Oh, Quinn,” she whimpers, moving instinctively to pull Quinn into an awkward hug.

Piazza lets out a little mewl of displeasure at being disrupted from her spot on the sofa between them, and Rachel is only vaguely aware of the sound and the way her small body scampers across Quinn’s legs. She’s far more attentive to the feel of Quinn—alive and solid in her arms.

 **QUINN:** The angle may be awkward, but having Rachel’s arms around her—having her love and support despite how hard this is for Rachel—relieves some of the tension inside Quinn. Rachel is still here, still listening, not running (not yet).

But the shame and guilt are still present. Quinn doubts they’ll ever go away completely though. She tightens her hands in the back of Rachel’s shirt, buries her head in Rachel’s neck, and cries, letting Rachel hold her throughout and trying to draw comfort from her embrace and the soft, gentle hands rubbing circles over her back.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispers.

 **RACHEL:** Her arms tighten around Quinn as quiet sobs wrack her body, and Rachel tries to comfort her as best as she can. She draws her own comfort from the fact that Quinn is here with her now—that she hadn’t succeeded in what she’d tried to do.

There’s a part of Rachel that wants to be so angry at Quinn—the same part that’s still angry for her disappearance—but the bigger part of her feels sad for what she'd—what they’d all—had to suffer through. She thinks that she’s finally beginning to understand the damage that Quinn’s condition can inflict on her life when left unchecked.

Once Quinn calms a bit, Rachel allows her embrace to loosen, pulling back far enough to gaze at Quinn’s tear-streaked face. Lifting a hand, she gently brushes the hair away from Quinn’s red-rimmed eyes with a sad smile.

“I forgive you, Quinn,” she whispers, sensing that Quinn needs to hear it, even if Rachel doesn’t really feel that Quinn has a reason to apologize to her.

Her fingers ghost Quinn’s cheek, gliding down her throat and over her clavicle until they can press softly over Quinn’s heart—beating a little fast but so strong. “And I’m so grateful that you,” she pauses, swallowing thickly, “that you’re still here. With me.”

 **QUINN:** She gazes at Rachel with teary eyes as warmth radiates from Rachel’s palm over her heart. Rachel’s words—her forgiveness—seem to heal some of the cracks in her still-broken heart. It’s a guilt Quinn’s been carrying around for so long, and to be able to shed even just a little bit of it is huge.

“Thank you,” Quinn breathes before sniffling and pressing her lips together, trying not to start crying again. “I’m glad I’m still here too,” she adds after a beat, realizing she truly means it.

 **RACHEL:** It’s a relief to hear, and Rachel nods, moistening her lips as she reluctantly lets her hand fall away from Quinn’s heart. She doesn’t want to be not touching Quinn, though, so she lets her palm rest over Quinn’s thigh, close to her knee, bringing her other hand up to brush at her own lingering tears.

“Can you tell me what happened next?” she asks gently. “Did you…did you stop yourself? Or did someone find you?”

She needs to hear the rest of Quinn’s story—to know what had happened to her, how she’d finally gotten the help that she’d needed, and most importantly, how Rachel can help make sure that Quinn never goes back to a place that dark again.

 **QUINN:** Nodding, Quinn shakily recounts the last moments she can actually remember. “I started walking into the river… I didn’t make it very far though—only about ankle deep.” She lowers her gaze to Rachel’s hand on her thigh, finding it easier than looking into Rachel’s eyes. “There were a lot of rocks along the river bank, and they were slippery. The last thing I remember from that morning is slipping and falling.”

Quinn exhales and briefly closes her eyes, recalling what she had been told had happened next. “When I fell, I hit my head on a rock, and it must have knocked me unconscious. I slid about halfway into the river, but my head wasn’t in the water. So I didn’t drown like I had hoped,” she says, her brow furrowing as she hears Rachel suck in another pained breath.

But Rachel doesn’t say anything, instead giving her leg a gentle squeeze, so Quinn continues. “I don’t know how long I was there, but it probably wasn’t very long at all. There’s a trail that runs along the river, and someone was out for a run when she saw me. I was told that she pulled me out of the river, called 911, and then I was taken to the hospital. I apparently regained consciousness on my way there, but I don’t remember any of this. I had a really bad concussion.” She swallows and licks her lips before adding, “The next thing I do remember is seeing my mom in my hospital room.”

 **RACHEL:** It occurs to Rachel just how incredibly lucky Quinn had been to only end up with a concussion. If she hadn’t slipped and fallen, if she’d landed in the water differently, if that jogger hadn’t been there; if she hadn’t seen Quinn, Rachel would have had another funeral to attend and another hole in her heart that would never completely heal.

“I’m so thankful that person found you,” Rachel says, squeezing Quinn’s leg again, “and I’m glad your mother was there for you when you woke up.”

A jerky nod is Quinn’s answer, and hazel eyes finally attempt to meet Rachel’s again. “Is that when you were finally diagnosed?”

 **QUINN:** “No,” she replies with a slight shake of her head, earning a look of surprise from Rachel. “It’s partly my fault, because I didn’t want to talk about what had happened. So even though I was evaluated by a psychiatrist, I didn’t disclose very much. I was too ashamed and afraid of what would happen if I told them.”

Quinn’s mouth curves down into a frown. “I should have told the truth. It would have saved me a lot more trouble.”

The following year would prove to test her mother’s patience and understanding, with neither of them knowing that Quinn was suffering from a mental illness that could impair her severely at times.

“It wasn’t until the following winter, after a few more episodes, that I finally went back to see a doctor. She diagnosed me with a mood disorder,” Quinn explains. “A few months after that, it was determined to be bipolar.”

 **RACHEL:** She’s afraid to ask about the other episodes. Quinn had been through so much in high school—things that would have had a weaker person giving up—but she’d fought through it all to come out on the other side even stronger, or so it had seemed. It breaks Rachel’s heart to know how all of that had fallen apart for her when it should have been the beginning of a bright future.

“You didn’t go back to Lima,” Rachel points out needlessly. “Did you stay in New Haven?” she asks with a frown, because there’d been no trace of Quinn there when Rachel had finally tried to look for her.

 **QUINN:** “I couldn’t go back to Lima. I refused when my mom tried to get me to go, and she didn’t push. Instead she decided to stay with me,” Quinn replies, and she is so grateful her mom did, even when she acted otherwise. “Even though she didn’t know what was wrong with me, she knew I wasn’t okay and didn’t want to leave me alone.

"We didn’t stay in New Haven though,” she continues. “My mom rented an apartment in Milford, which is a couple towns over, and we moved there. It was a weird summer, full of transition, but that was kind of the norm ever since high school started.” Quinn shrugs lightly. “I managed to get through the following fall semester at Yale, and then, everything kind of fell apart again around Christmas.”

That’s when Quinn’s dad had decided to make a reappearance in their lives, and it had not been good.

 **RACHEL:** She frowns again as she studies Quinn. Rachel had spent that summer crippled by grief over Finn, and she’d barely managed to drag herself back to classes at NYADA in the fall, but it wasn’t very long after that she’d started trying to contact Quinn—at first in anger over the silent treatment and then in worry.

“You couldn’t have been rooming in the dorms at Yale because Santana tried to find you through student housing,” Rachel admits, noticing Quinn’s surprise at that. “I…I know it took me some time to…to realize that you weren’t returning messages, but I did try to get in touch with you in the fall. And when you didn’t respond, Santana and I tried calling your mother.”

Quinn looks away guiltily, and Rachel realizes that she had known about that. “I know you said you couldn’t face us, but…I really wish you would have let us be there for you, Quinn.” Especially since things were apparently about to get worse for her.

 **QUINN:** Her guilt is back in full force. She knew that Rachel and Santana were trying to track her down, but, like Rachel had just pointed out, Quinn had been unable to face them. And her mom had respected Quinn’s wishes and ignored Santana’s phone calls.

“In hindsight, I should have, but… then again, I should have done a lot of things differently,” Quinn says sadly. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m sorry I’m so messed up and that I hurt you. I never wanted to do that.”

 **RACHEL:** “I know.” Rachel reaches up to cup Quinn’s cheek again, gently pulling Quinn’s eyes back to her. “I’ve already forgiven you, Quinn. I know your condition had a lot to do with what happened, but I can’t deny that it hurts me to know that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” She shakes her head slightly. “You needed your friends,” she amends sadly.

“Please stop beating yourself up for the past,” Rachel begs, stroking Quinn’s skin with her thumb. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m just trying to understand everything that happened then.”

 **QUINN:** When Rachel’s warm hand rests against her cheek, the first thought that springs to Quinn’s mind is that she doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve Rachel’s forgiveness, her compassion, or her understanding.

But regardless of whether or not she deserves it, Rachel is giving it to her.

Rachel wanted to be there for Quinn, and she still wants to be here. Even though a part of Quinn is screaming at her to push Rachel away, a bigger part of her can’t bear to do it.

“I know,” Quinn finally says, closing her eyes and soaking in Rachel’s touch. “And I’m trying to let go of the past, but as much as I want to, and have wanted to for the longest time, I haven’t been able to.”

Hazel eyes open again. “I know I’ve already asked a lot of you—more than I deserve—so if you want to walk away from this—from me—I’ll understand.”

 **RACHEL:** “That’s the last thing I want,” Rachel exclaims, her heart twisting at the very idea of walking away from Quinn now. She drops her hand from Quinn’s cheek, reaching blindly for her hand again.

“My God, Quinn…do you not understand what you mean to me? What you’ve always meant?” And okay, maybe Rachel herself hadn’t always understood the true complexity of her feelings for Quinn, but now that she does, she’s not about to walk away from her when they finally have the chance to discover everything they could be to each other.

“Finding you again has been like finding a piece of myself that I’d forgotten was missing,” she confesses, holding one of Quinn’s hand as she reaches out for the other. She doesn’t miss the catch of Quinn’s breath or the way her fingers tighten around Rachel’s.

“I know it won’t be easy.” Rachel’s lips quirk up into a crooked smile. “Honestly, Quinn, I hate to break it to you, but nothing about you has ever been easy.” Quinn makes a sound that could be either a laugh or a sob as she closes her eyes, but it looks like she might be smiling just a little bit. “I’m not exactly easy either, for admittedly different reasons, but nothing worth having ever is,” Rachel continues, squeezing both of Quinn’s hands. “And, Quinn, I think you’re worth having.” Hazel eyes pop open at that, gazing intently into Rachel’s eyes.

“I’m not walking away from this,” she promises.

 **QUINN:** She stares at Rachel in disbelief. The words she’s speaking are so beyond anything Quinn could have ever hoped for.

'I must be dreaming,’ she thinks. 'How could I possibly mean that much to her?’

Quinn interlaces her fingers with Rachel’s once again, searching dark brown eyes and looking at them with nothing short of wonder.

“How did I get so lucky?” she asks, momentarily forgetting all her past transgressions.

 **RACHEL:** “This isn’t luck,” Rachel denies, holding Quinn’s astonished gaze. “This is us finally having the chance to get it right.”

Quinn’s eyes widen, and Rachel grins, knowing she remembers what those words mean for them. Really, how can Quinn not remember the energy that Rachel had devoted to her—to winning her friendship and proving herself worthy of Quinn’s good opinion?

“Do you think that I didn’t eventually understand what you were always trying to do for me all those years ago?” Rachel asks gently. “I know at the time I couldn’t see past my…what did you call it?” she pauses, taking a moment to recall the words exactly. “My schoolgirl fantasy of life,” she finally recites, hearing Quinn’s breathy gasp of recognition. “But I’m not that girl anymore, Quinn. The fantasy shattered a long time ago,” she admits sadly. It had died with Finn, with Quinn’s disappearance, and with the disappointment of failed auditions.

“Looking back now, I can recognize that you were trying to push me toward my dreams. The way you respected my talent and my ambition even when we weren’t really friends,” Rachel tells her, hearing a trace of amazement creep into her own voice.

“I know I didn’t always take the advice you tried to give me, but I did hear it. I just…I thought it was about keeping me away from Finn because you wanted him,” she admits carefully, feeling Quinn tense slightly under her touch at the mention of Finn, “but it was about you always believing that I’d end up here…in New York, on a stage, dazzling everyone with my talent.”

Quinn nods wordlessly, and Rachel smiles at her. “You didn’t want me to settle for anything less.” A humorless laugh slips out as Rachel shakes her head. “You still don’t,” she realizes, thinking of the escape route that Quinn keeps trying to get her to take. “But I don’t think you realize how rare it’s actually been for me to have someone like you in my life.” Rachel releases one of Quinn’s hands, but only so she can touch Quinn’s beautiful face again. “And I missed you so much when you weren’t there.”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s right, Quinn hadn’t realized that people like her are a rarity in Rachel’s life. Although, she had never considered herself anyone particularly special in Rachel’s life, despite Rachel having told Quinn otherwise on the night of senior prom.

But hearing Rachel say all these things to her now, Quinn feels closer to her than she ever has before. They’ve both changed so much, but maybe Rachel’s right—maybe this is actually their chance to get it right.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she says contritely, lifting her hand to cover Rachel’s. “But I want to be there now. I want to get it right.”

 **RACHEL:** Smiling, Rachel flexes her fingers and tangles them with Quinn’s, pulling both of their hands away from Quinn’s cheek and bringing them to her lips to brush a soft kiss to Quinn’s knuckles. She really wants to kiss Quinn for real, but she’d promised herself that she would wait until Quinn is ready to take that step. Rachel is really hoping that she might be ready soon.

“We’re going to,” Rachel vows, lifting her eyes to meet Quinn’s mesmerized gaze. “You’re here now, and I’m here for you, Quinn,” she promises. “I know things between us won’t always be easy, but I think we can make it work as long as we keep talking to each other.”

Quinn eyes are sparkling, and her smile is soft and hopeful. Rachel pauses to lick her lips, adjusting her hold on Quinn’s hand. “And since we’re talking, do you think you can tell me a little more about what happened before you were diagnosed?”

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t think anyone has ever been as gentle with her as Rachel is when she presses soft lips to Quinn’s knuckles, and it’s something of a wonder to her. And Rachel’s promise makes hope blossom in Quinn’s chest, momentarily pushing away all her fears about taking another step forward with Rachel.

But then Rachel is asking her about a time Quinn would rather forget. Her mind flashes back to the time right before her diagnosis—how her dad’s sudden reappearance had thrown her, and the progress Quinn thought she had been making was all for nothing. And that afternoon when everything finally came to a head… Quinn had never felt so out of control in her life.

“I can’t,” she says, gazing at Rachel apologetically. “Not right now. I promise I will tell you about it one day, but telling you all that I have so far has been really hard.”

 **RACHEL:** She’s a little disappointed, but she knows this is all taking an emotional toll on Quinn. It’s taking a toll on Rachel as well, forcing her back into some of her most painful memories and adding her new knowledge of Quinn to the weight of them. She can’t even imagine how much worse it has to be for Quinn.

Rachel swallows down her curiosity and reminds herself to be patient. “Okay. That’s okay,” she assures Quinn with a nod, offering her a small smile. “Can you at least tell me if there’s anything I should be doing differently when you…if you feel yourself spiraling?” she asks carefully. “I don’t want to inadvertently make anything worse for you.”

She’s been trying to stay in tune with Quinn’s moods, which is turning out to be easier than she’d feared it would be. But maybe that shouldn’t surprise her—she’d apparently paid a lot more attention to Quinn in high school than she’d ever cared to acknowledge at the time. She only wishes that she hadn’t been quite so oblivious to her own inclinations at the time.

 **QUINN:** “Not that I can think of,” she replies honestly. “You’re patient and you try to understand. That’s really all I can ask,” Quinn adds with a grateful smile.

“I do take medication,” she continues, realizing it’s important for Rachel to know that she’s doing what she can to stay on top of things. “I’ve been taking lithium for a couple years now, and so far, it seems to be the only thing that’s really helped prevent episodes and keeps me stable. It’s not a magic pill or anything, and I do have certain triggers still. Sometimes they’re enough to start sending me spiraling, but usually there are signs that I’m about to relapse. You’ll recognize them before I probably do.”

 **RACHEL:** Lithium? Rachel had read a little about that being one of the possible treatments, but she remembers there being a lot of potential side effects. It would definitely explain why Quinn has been avoiding alcohol.

It’s admittedly a little bit frustrating that Rachel still doesn’t have a clear picture of what to expect if Quinn has an episode or how she should handle it, but she hopes that if it happens, she’ll be able navigate through it and not end up disappointing Quinn. She has a feeling that Quinn’s been disappointed by people who are supposed to care about her a little too often in her life.

“So if you dye your hair pink again and get another tattoo, I should maybe start to worry?” Rachel asks lightly. Frankly, she’d been worried when it happened the first time, and now, looking back, she can’t help wondering if that was one of the early signs of Quinn’s bipolar disorder.

 **QUINN:** She lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, maybe a little, although…” and now Quinn grows more serious at thoughts of what followed that period in her life. “What happened after, with Beth and trying to get her back from Shelby, my doctor suspects that was a mild mixed episode, and I think she’s right. You actually helped me through that one.” She smiles appreciatively at Rachel—despite what Puck had said at the time about no one trying to help Quinn, Rachel had. For awhile, she’d been the only one.

“But the biggest sign that I could relapse is that my sleep and appetite will change,” Quinn continues, hoping to give Rachel a better idea of what to be on the lookout for. “That’s the main reason I don’t live alone, because I don’t always recognize it, but someone who lives with me and sees me every day will.”

 **RACHEL:** She can remember what Quinn had been like when Shelby had come back to Lima. She might have been back to blonde and back in glee, but she still hadn’t been making the most rational decisions. Quinn hadn’t seemed to be thinking beyond getting Beth taken away from Shelby to realize that succeeding would leave her daughter at the mercy of social services because Quinn had already signed away her rights—not to mention that Quinn had had no income, home of her own, or means of supporting a child. The Quinn Fabray that Rachel had known up to that point—though she’d admittedly made some poor choices—had been hyperconscious of every possible consequence for her actions.

Rachel can’t say that she would have recognized that as a sign of an episode even if she’d known about Quinn’s condition then, but it certainly helps Rachel to have frame of reference for the future.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Rachel says, squeezing Quinn’s hand gratefully. She hopes one day she might be far more attuned to Quinn’s eating and sleeping habits, but for now, she’ll have to trust Kaitlyn for those things—and trust her own instincts when it comes to Quinn’s behavior.

Rachel thinks she’ll probably have to finagle a third ticket to her show for the next time Quinn wants to attend so that Kaitlyn can bring her boyfriend too, because apparently she’s doing more for Quinn than simply sharing the rent. “I’m really glad that you have someone like, Kaitlyn.”

 **QUINN:** “Me too,” she agrees with a grateful smile, knowing that she’s been incredibly fortunate to have a friend like her. “Kaitlyn’s like the sister I wish I had.”

Piazza chooses that moment to reacquaint herself with Quinn’s lap, causing Quinn to let out a soft laugh as she looks down at curious blue eyes. “Which I guess would make this little ball of fluff my niece.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s comment about Kaitlyn being the sister she wishes she had reminds Rachel that Quinn does, in fact, have a sister—at least according to what Santana had once told her, though Rachel can’t remember Quinn ever directly mentioning her in Rachel’s presence. She almost asks about it, but she has a feeling it’s not a subject that Quinn would want to talk about, and today has already been filled with difficult subjects, so she files the information away to revisit at a later date.

Her thoughts are soon interrupted by Piazza as she pushes herself onto Quinn’s lap, obviously having decided that she’s been ignored for long enough. Quinn’s expression is unguarded and utterly relaxed as she sifts her fingers through the fur between pointed, gray ears, and Rachel melts at the sight.

Piazza blinks up at her then, and for a moment, Rachel has the impression that the cat is lifting a whiskered eyebrow in silent demand for her attention as well. “I can see the resemblance,” she jokes, reaching over to scratch Piazza’s cheek—her fingers (mostly) accidentally brushing against Quinn’s.

 **QUINN:** Her lips quirk up in amusement at Rachel’s joke. But when Rachel’s fingers brush against Quinn’s, she has a hard time deciding what feels nicer—the soft fur beneath her hand or Rachel’s feather-light touch.

Biting her lower lip, Quinn realizes it doesn’t really matter, because the moment is sweet as is, and something she needed after so much heavy conversation.

She glances over at the coffee table and their untouched mugs of tea, which are undoubtedly cold by now. “Do you want me to reheat your tea for you?” Quinn asks, lifting her gaze back up to meet Rachel’s.

 **RACHEL:** Being mostly distracted by Quinn, the proximity of their fingers, and their joint efforts to pamper Piazza, it takes a moment for Rachel to pull her gaze away from Quinn to glance at the coffee table. She’d honestly forgotten all about the tea, having been consumed by the conversation with Quinn.

“Only if you’re planning to reheat your own,” Rachel answers, smiling at Quinn.

 **QUINN:** She’s so comfortable right now that Quinn’s tempted to stay right where she is, but she’s definitely a little parched from so much talking, and hot tea is so much better than cold tea.

“Okay, Piazza, you need to keep Rachel company again,” Quinn says, lifting the cat off her lap and gently placing her down on Rachel’s. Piazza doesn’t seem to mind one bit—her purring doesn’t stop for a second—but then, having her ears scratched by Rachel should be more than enough to keep her content.

Quinn smiles at Rachel before picking up their mugs. “I’ll be right back.”

Rachel nods in response, and then Quinn makes the short trip to the kitchen—putting the tea in the microwave and reheating it. A minute later, it’s done, and Quinn returns, handing Rachel her tea, to which Rachel replies with a soft 'thank you’ and a gentle smile.

Quinn settles back down on the couch besides Rachel and brings her mug to her lips, breathing in the steam from her drink before taking a sip.

She licks her lips then, and considers what she’s about to say next. It’s another big step, but one they need to take. “So, I’ve been thinking…” Quinn starts, looking toward Rachel whose undivided attention is on her, despite Piazza still hogging Rachel’s lap. “Even though I’m not really ready to see them again, you should tell your friends about me.”

 **RACHEL:** A relieved, “Oh, thank God,” slips past Rachel’s lips the moment Quinn’s words fully register. She immediately offers a contrite smile when she notices Quinn’s wary expression, but, “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to keep this from them, especially Kurt.”

Not telling Santana and Brittany had been far easier to manage because Rachel generally sees them far less often that Kurt. It’s never been unusual for Rachel to go weeks at a time without exchanging more than a few text messages with Santana, but she and Kurt have always made it a point to make time for one another. He knows her too well to be fooled by her evasive behavior.

“He figured out something was going on with me months ago,” Rachel confesses before quickly promising Quinn that, “I haven’t told him anything about you. I only said it wasn’t something I could talk about yet, and he’s been respecting that…for the most part,” she amends with a shrug. “Although I’m certain he suspects I’ve been having some secret affair.” Her lips tug up into a smile as she gazes at Quinn. “I suppose that isn’t very far from the truth,” she realizes, feeling warm at the knowledge that it doesn’t have to be a secret anymore—even though she knows she’s probably going to catch hell for all of this once she tells everyone.

Rachel notices the way Quinn drops her gaze, cheeks turning a little pink, but she can’t quite tune into Quinn’s emotional state at the moment. “How…how much are you comfortable with me telling them?” she asks, wondering, not for the first time, how she can even begin to explain.

 **QUINN:** The mention of her and Rachel having a “secret affair” has Quinn blushing. Her life has been filled with all kinds of unexpected surprises—usually of the unpleasant variety—but the fact that she and Rachel are on what feels like an inevitable path to a romantic relationship is definitely welcome, even though Rachel’s eagerness still throws Quinn (in a good way).

But then there is the question Rachel poses about how much to tell her friends, and Quinn considers. It’s definitely something she’s been thinking about recently, but interacting with them again makes Quinn wary.

Truthfully, she has no idea how Brittany will react, and she doubts Blaine ever cared enough about her to hold a grudge. But if Santana is anything like she was six years ago, she’s going to give Quinn hell when she sees her again, and Quinn’s definitely not looking forward to that.

Kurt’s tricky, because he’s Rachel’s best friend and Finn’s stepbrother, and even though she personally thinks he’s a sanctimonious prick, she’s going to have to deal with him if she really wants to make things work with Rachel.

Quinn not sure if it’s self-preservation or cowardice that motivates her right now, but she finally answers, “You can tell them the truth if you want. I’m not exactly eager to spill my guts to them, and I don’t feel like I owe them that anyway.”

 **RACHEL:** As much as Rachel respects Quinn’s reasons for feeling that way, a part of her doesn’t wholly agree. Quinn may not owe Kurt or Blaine an explanation because they’d never been very close, but Santana and Brittany had considered Quinn their friend—the third part of their trinity. Even if they’d let Quinn down more than they’d been there to support her—and Rachel believes that was probably the case because Santana’s brand of friendship has always been something of an acquired taste—from their perspective, someone that they’d cared about had simply disappeared from their lives without an explanation. They’re going to want one now.

Rachel doesn’t feel like it’s really her place to give it to them, and she frowns as she stares at Quinn. She doesn’t want to start an argument, but, “I’m not sure I should explain your disorder to them. I only know pieces of it, and they’re going to have questions that I can’t really answer yet, but I don’t want to lie to them either,” Rachel admits, noticing the air of tension that’s radiating off Quinn again.

“You know if we…if we’re going to keep seeing one another, eventually, you’re going to have to face them.”

 **QUINN:** “I know,” she replies, voice clipped. She grimaces and lets out a breath, trying to relax to no avail. The prospect of facing her old friends has Quinn more than a little on edge, and there’s nothing she can really do to abate it.

“And I’m not asking you to lie to them, Rachel,” she tries to clarify, voice a little steadier this time, despite the tension running through her. “I’m just trying to make it so you don’t have to keep hiding the truth from them. If there’s something you can’t answer then…” Quinn trails off and shrugs, “just tell them you don’t know.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn makes it sound so easy—just a simple 'I don’t know’ in the face of what will likely be Kurt’s concern and Santana’s rage and Brittany’s sadness—but Rachel will be left to deal with the fallout of it on her own, not to mention the fact that she’s been keeping this from them for months now. Pursing her lips, Rachel looks away from Quinn and takes a deliberate sip of her tea, letting the warmth of it travel down her throat as she reels in her displeasure with the situation.

It’s not like she really expected Quinn to offer to meet with her friends anytime soon, even if she’d silently hoped for it, and she’s honestly relieved that Quinn is at least ready for them to know she’s back in Rachel’s life. If Quinn hadn’t been the one to mention it first, Rachel would have asked again if she could tell them. She supposes that she just didn’t let herself think too deeply on how difficult this confession will be after nearly five months of keeping it secret.

Rachel has had time to move past her own initial confusion and anger with Quinn about the past, and now she’s firmly in the stage of being excited about their future. She wants to gush to Kurt about the way Quinn makes her feel now, but she won’t be able to do that without first being dragged back through that place where she was hurt and sad and disappointed and resentful—because Kurt and Santana and Brittany and even Blaine are still living in that place when it comes to their feelings for Quinn Fabray.

She wishes she could say that’s not Quinn’s fault, but it kind of is—unintentional or not.

Taking a breath, Rachel nods her head once. “Okay,” she relents, turning her eyes back to Quinn. “I do appreciate that you finally feel comfortable with me telling them about you, Quinn,” she says, not wanting Quinn to think that she’s not grateful for that. “I’m just worried that I won’t be able to make them understand why you felt the need to distance yourself from us.” There’s a part of Rachel that still has trouble understanding why Quinn cut her ties with them so completely.

Quinn’s lips part—either on the verge of forming a reminder that she doesn’t really care if they understand or another apology—but Rachel holds up a hand to stop her. “I know you don’t feel like you owe them anything,” she acknowledges, “but I do,” she stresses, silently pleading with Quinn to understand. “They’re my friends, and I owe them an explanation for why I haven’t told them about you sooner. And I really don’t want them to think I’m wrong for letting you back into my life.”

 **QUINN:** Her heart sinks into her stomach hearing Rachel voice Quinn’s fear that Rachel, despite the best intentions now, will realize she _was_ wrong for letting Quinn back into her life.

“What do you want me to say, Rachel?” Quinn asks wearily, wondering if Rachel is already starting to second-guess that decision. “I know it’s not easy for you, and I’m sorry that I'm… that I’m the way I am, but I don’t think you understand how stressful seeing them will be, and I’m afraid-” she cuts herself off then, not wanting to give voice to it.

 **RACHEL:** The weariness in Quinn’s voice and the moisture glistening in her eyes again make Rachel’s heart ache. She carefully sets down her tea and turns toward Quinn, disturbing Piazza.

“Hey…I do understand, Quinn,” she insists, reaching out to rest a palm on Quinn’s arm, “or I’m trying to, but…” Rachel puffs out a frustrated breath, dragging in another as she’s forced to admit, “it would be a lie for me to say I don’t wish you were a little more willing to eventually have my friends back in your life again. And it would certainly be easier for me if I didn’t have to tell them that I’m seeing you only to have to follow it up with a 'by the way, she doesn’t want to see any of you.’”

Quinn winches under her touch, curling her own fingers into the heels of her palms. Rachel sighs, running her hand down Quinn’s arm and covering her fist—gently stroking her knuckles until she feels them flex and loosen a little beneath her touch. “But I promise you that I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with,” she vows in a tender voice, drawing hazel eyes back to hers.

“I guess I just want to be able to talk about them with you and tell you about my worries and fears and have you try to understand them the way I’m trying to understand yours. I mean…you know how much I love to talk, Quinn,” Rachel adds with a self-deprecating smile.

 **QUINN:** She presses her lips together, feeling a prickling of guilt over her selfishness as she puts herself in Rachel’s shoes. After all, it would be difficult to not be able to talk to Rachel about the important people in Quinn’s life. She knows that from recent experience, in fact—the first few months of them getting reacquainted had Quinn pointedly avoiding talking about Beth because she didn’t want to hurt Rachel.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says again, turning her palm up to clasp Rachel’s hand. “I want you to feel comfortable telling me those things. And… I am willing to try to get to a place where I can see your friends again. So… don’t tell them I don’t want to see them, just tell them I’m not ready yet. Does that… sound okay?”

 **RACHEL:** Squeezing Quinn’s hand, Rachel smiles gratefully. She knows how hard it probably was for Quinn to offer her that little bit of hope for the future, but it’s really all Rachel needs—to know that Quinn is willing to try to become an active part of her life and accept that her friendships with Kurt and Blaine and Santana and Brittany are going to be an unavoidable part of that. Rachel knows it won’t make telling them about Quinn any easier, but at least she can offer them a promise that Quinn will one day, when she’s ready, be able to better explain the things that Rachel will inevitably fumble.

“Yeah, it does,” Rachel agrees. “Thank you, Quinn. You have no idea how much that means to me. I know it isn’t going to happen anytime soon, but I really do want to be able to include you in every part of my life.”

 **QUINN:** Knowing that Rachel wants to include Quinn in every part of her life makes Quinn feel warm all over, momentarily overriding her own guilt, tension, and apprehension. She doesn’t have to do this alone, they’re doing this together, as Rachel keeps proving over and over.

“I want that too,” she replies before taking a moment to look at Rachel. They’re another step closer to making that happen. “Thank you for being patient.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s hand is warm against Rachel’s skin, and her eyes are glistening as they capture Rachel with their intensity. There’s still a hint of the tears that had been present earlier and a trace of redness that Rachel is sure must be mirrored in her own eyes, but Quinn is still the most beautiful thing that Rachel has ever seen.

“I keep telling you…you’re worth it,” Rachel murmurs, holding Quinn’s gaze. Sweet Barbra, how she wants to kiss her again.

 **QUINN:** Affection blooms in Quinn’s chest at Rachel’s words, and there’s a shift in the energy between them. A very pleasant sort of tension crackles, and Quinn searches Rachel’s eyes for another long moment, noticing how they darken ever so slightly, before letting her gaze fall to full lips.

Quinn has been wanting to kiss those lips again for a month, and she’s tired of waiting. She leans in, closing the scant distance between them, and captures Rachel’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

 **RACHEL:** Their first kiss was absolutely not a fluke. The moment Quinn’s lips touch hers, a spark of electricity races out from their point of contact until Rachel’s entire body feels alive with it, making her ache to be even closer.

Rachel moans softly against Quinn’s mouth as she falls into the kiss, lifting a hand to cup her cheek and keep her there. The urge to part her own lips and deepen the kiss is singing through her blood, but it’s momentarily tempered by the simple perfection of the moment—this quiet, blissful surrender to their mutual attraction and ever-growing affection.

Rachel really hopes that Quinn is ready for their relationship to move forward from here, because now that she’s been given a second taste of Quinn’s kisses, she knows that she’s going to crave them even more.

 **QUINN:** Feeling Rachel’s soft hand against her cheek settles something inside Quinn, like everything is in its right place, and she lets herself fall that much more. This simple act of intimacy leaves Quinn feeling safe and content, and she savors the moment.

Quinn presses forward then, needing to be even closer to Rachel, and parts her lips, deepening their kiss. Rachel lets out a soft moan as she eagerly reciprocates, and Quinn smiles into the kiss.

 **RACHEL:** The velvet touch of Quinn’s tongue teasing at her lips has Rachel moaning again, hungrily responding to the silent request. Quinn’s lips curve against hers when Rachel gives into her own desire, and then Quinn proceeds to demonstrate just how talented she really is with her mouth.

Rachel’s hand moves from Quinn’s cheek, fingers threading into blonde hair, and she can feel Quinn’s palm curl around her thigh, making Rachel wish that she’d opted for a skirt instead of the jeans despite the wintry weather outside.

Unlike their kiss at the Strand, they’re completely alone—except for Piazza, whom Rachel has completely lost track of in her Quinn-induced haze. It would be so very easy to straddle Quinn’s lap on this sofa and lean her back into the cushions and touch her in all the ways she longs to. The speed at which Quinn can reduce her to a wanton mess with just a kiss is honestly a little bit frightening. Rachel supposes it could be a result of having been abstinent for so long, but she strongly suspects that it’s just her natural reaction to Quinn.

 **QUINN:** With every press of their lips and swipe of their tongues, the heat between them builds. Rachel’s fingers scratch lightly against the back of Quinn’s scalp, and it’s slowly driving Quinn crazy in the best way possible.

She brushes her thumb back and forth against the denim of Rachel’s jeans, while her other hand remains tangled with Rachel’s. Quinn’s not quite sure she should give in to the temptation to push Rachel back on the couch and see how many more of those soft moans she can elicit from Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** The slow back and forth stroke of Quinn’s thumb on her thigh combined with the assertive demands of her lips and tongue are slowly making Rachel crazy. She scratches her nails against Quinn’s scalp and leans further into her—increasingly breathless from the growing intensity of their kisses.

Another moan bubbles up from the back of Rachel’s throat before she reluctantly pulls her mouth away from Quinn’s too-tempting lips, dragging in a much needed breath as she gazes at Quinn from beneath her eyelashes. She doesn’t want to stop kissing Quinn, but she’s all too aware that the last time they’d kissed, Quinn had told her that she wasn’t ready for this yet, and Rachel needs to know if that’s changed before they go any further.

“You are far too good at that,” Rachel murmurs huskily, trying to collect herself—not missing the way Quinn’s mouth slowly pulls into a smug grin. “I really hope this means I won’t have to wait another month before I can kiss you again.”

 **QUINN:** She already misses having Rachel’s lips pressed against hers, so the thought of having to wait another month to do it again is torture. But the fact that Rachel is just as eager to kiss her again—not to mention the effect Quinn seems to have on her—is definitely a nice stroke to her ego.

Still, Quinn doesn’t miss Rachel’s unspoken question.

“You won’t,” Quinn promises, looking at Rachel intently before shyly biting her lower lip. “In fact… I wish I could kiss you every day.”

 **RACHEL:** The possibility of kissing Quinn every day sounds like heaven—if a bit improbable for the time being—and Rachel can’t contain her happy smile. “I would not be opposed to that,” she promises, her eyes falling helplessly back to Quinn’s lips. A pleasant shiver dances down her spine at the thought of how they’ll eventually feel on other parts of her body.

“So does that mean that you’re ready for this to be a romantic relationship?” Rachel feels compelled to ask, lifting her gaze back to hazel eyes. “Because I am,” she assures Quinn. Today has only proven to Rachel just how much she doesn’t want to lose even another minute with Quinn. Life is far too short to let any opportunity for happiness slip away without doing everything in her power to grab on to it with both hands.

 **QUINN:** She smiles softly in response to Rachel’s question, and Quinn’s heart feels lighter at Rachel’s assurances that, even after all she’s learned about Quinn’s bipolar disorder and the way it wreaked havoc on her past (and therefore, their friendship), she still wants to be in a romantic relationship.

“I am,” Quinn replies with a nod, giving Rachel’s hand a gentle squeeze and loving how brown eyes seem to light up at Quinn’s confirmation.

And then what they’re about to embark on really hits her, and Quinn lets out a happy, tearful laugh, almost unable to believe that this is really happening.

 **RACHEL:** The tears glistening in Quinn’s eyes now are of the happy variety, and her joyful, little laugh has Rachel grinning like a fool. Her fingers stroke through Quinn’s soft hair, tucking pieces of it back behind elfin ears, as her eyes travel over every lovely line of Quinn’s face. Soon enough, Rachel is abandoning Quinn’s hair to brush the backs of her fingers over Quinn’s cheek again just because she can, watching the way Quinn’s eyes close in pleasure at the simple touch.

She’ll get to touch Quinn this way—to kiss her—whenever she wants from now on. Because they’re dating. Date dating.

Oh, sweet Barbra, she’s dating Quinn Fabray!

An incredulous giggle bubbles out of Rachel’s mouth—one that sounds a lot like Quinn’s had a moment ago—and her eyes widen. She never could have dreamed she’d actually end up here when she and Quinn had been younger, even if Rachel had been more in tune with her sexuality (or rather both their sexualities) at the time.

“I can’t believe I actually got the attention of the pretty blonde cheerleader,” she murmurs in awe.

 **QUINN:** Being the focus of Rachel’s attention in this way, gentle fingers affectionately touching Quinn’s hair and face, is nothing short of wonderful. Her skin tingles pleasantly, and she closes her eyes, relishing it. And the sound of Rachel’s joyous laughter, echoing Quinn’s before, has her heart singing.

Her eyes flutter open at Rachel’s words, and she smiles again, shaking her head in awed disbelief. “You’ve always had my attention, Rachel,” Quinn confesses. Granted, she hadn’t always dealt with it in the healthiest of ways, but it’s the truth.

 **RACHEL:** The way Quinn says it has Rachel wondering again just how far back Quinn’s attraction to her actually goes. Someday she’ll ask, but she has a feeling the answer might be too tied up with the back and forth they’d once had over Finn, and they’ve already run an emotional gauntlet today. Right now, Rachel just wants to savor this moment.

So, just because she can, she leans forward and kisses Quinn, telling her without words just how much she means to Rachel.

 **QUINN:** She swears she can feel the emotion Rachel is pouring into their kiss and the tender way she curves her palm against the back of Quinn’s neck. Quinn doesn’t think she’s ever felt so safe with another person than she does right now.

But there’s a hint of something more passionate as well, and when Rachel’s mouth parts, Quinn eagerly welcomes it. She thinks she could spend hours kissing Rachel and not tire of it.

Today has been yet another roller coaster of emotion, but there’s no doubt that it was worth it. Quinn doubts (although she hopes otherwise) that it will be smooth sailing from here on out, but for now, she’s going to enjoy the here and now and make the rest of Rachel’s visit very much worth her while.


	15. Confessions of a Broadway Drama Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Saturday, February 22, 2020**  
>  Rachel invites her oldest friends to breakfast to finally tell them about Quinn.

Rachel is still riding the wave of bliss from her (yes, absolutely a date) date with Quinn when she makes the decision to gather her friends together in one place so she can drop the Quinn-bomb on them at the same time. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the wisest decision, because now she’s going to have to actually face them and their collective reactions all at once and with nowhere to escape since she’d invited them to her own apartment to do the deed.

She’d extended the breakfast invitation (because she may be trying to butter them up with food) for eight a.m. on Saturday morning—a necessity for her to be able to make her matinee performance—and while Santana had bitched and moaned about the early time, she isn’t one to pass up free food. Though she won’t come out and say it, the fact that they haven’t seen one another in nearly two months might have played into her eventual agreement.

So Rachel had cooked up a hefty batch of her famous—well, in her own mind—banana pancakes, which are currently waiting inside a ceramic warming dish, sliced up fresh strawberries and bananas for the topping, and even fried up a portion of disgusting bacon and sausage links for her meat-loving friends. The coffee is brewed and ready to be poured, and Rachel is currently pacing her living room and feeling like she needs to throw-up.

Maybe she should have taken Stephanie up on her generous offer to be here for moral support, but it’s too late for that now—as evidenced by the sound of her intercom buzzer. Taking a breath, Rachel answers with a nervous, “Hello.”

“ _Buzz us up, Berry. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out here,”_ comes Santana’s irritated voice.

Brittany’s voice soon joins in with, _“Don’t witches get burned at the stake, though? Wouldn’t their tits be, like, super hot?”_

Giggling nervously, Rachel presses the button to unlock the door to the building and tells them to, “Come on up,” before she returns to her pacing while she waits for them to make their way up to her apartment.

All too soon, there’s a rapid knocking at her door, so Rachel steels her shoulders and opens it, immediately stepping back as Santana barges inside with Brittany at her side, announcing, “We’re here.”

Rachel rolls her eyes at the typical uncouth entrance, but manages to smile at Brittany when she bounces inside with a grin and stops to give Rachel a quick hug with a cheerful, “Hey, Rach.”

“Hi, Brittany,” she responds laughingly, always happy to be on the receiving end of one of Brittany’s exuberant bear hugs, even if her stomach is currently churning with anxiety.

Kurt and Blaine follow directly behind them, and Rachel’s eyebrows inch up. “Oh…I didn’t realize you’d all come together.”

“We met them at the door as they were coming in,” Kurt explains, pausing to give Rachel a hug in greeting.

“So you can reassure Hummel that you’re not preggers or something,” Santana cuts in, unbuttoning her coat, “‘cause he seems to think you’ve got some big, life-changing announcement to make.”

“Kurt!” Rachel barks with a frown, stepping back. “I already told you I wasn’t!”

“And I’ve told him he shouldn’t ask a woman that,” Blaine offers with an apologetic smile, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Rachel’s heated cheek. “It’s rude,” he directs solely to his husband.

Kurt huffs, shrugging out of his own coat. “She’s my best friend. I’m allowed to ask her about her life.”

“And gossip about it, apparently,” Santana mutters as she tosses her coat over the back of Rachel’s sofa.

“I wasn’t gossiping,” Kurt defends. “I was _speculating._ I mean, you have seemed to be glowing lately, Rachel,” he points out, eying her intently. “When you’re not looking green around the gills, that is.”

“And it does look like you’ve packed on a few extra pounds there,” Santana adds with a smirk.

“I have not!” Rachel screeches, pressing a hand to her stomach. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have eaten the whole box of homemade chocolates she’d bought on Monday, but they’d been so good.

“She’s still pocket-sized, San,” Brittany argues supportively. “She’s just wearing a really unflattering sweater today.”

“True dat,” Santana agrees with a grin while Rachel surrenders to her urge to glance down at her simple, striped sweater self-consciously. “And she knows I’m just messing with her, don’t you, Berry?” Santana asks, directing her gaze back to Rachel. “Because you’ve obviously got something cooking, or you wouldn’t have dragged our asses here at the crack of dawn.”

“I think it’s sausage,” Brittany decides.

Santana tilts her head, taking a deep, appreciative breath. “Hmm. Yeah. And is that bacon?”

Rachel nods, attempting to forcibly calm her nerves by focusing on breakfast. “Yes. I also have coffee and banana pancakes whenever you’re ready.”

Brittany claps her hands together. “Oh, I love bananas.”

“Well, damn. Fork us up some of that,” Santana demands, turning for the small dining area outside the kitchen.

“Santana,” Kurt calls out after her. “Really, how can you think of food at a time like this?”

“Maybe because I’m hungry,” Santana calls back, forcing everyone to follow her to the table before she finally stops and turns, hands on her hips. “If Rachel’s gonna tell us she’s doing some stupid-ass thing like moving to California to be on some shitty T.V. show or dating some jerkface like Jesse St. Jackass again, I’d rather hear it on a full stomach.”

Kurt crosses his arms with a frown. “Well, I certainly can’t be expected to enjoy my meal with this suspense hanging over us! I’ve been waiting months to find out what Rachel’s secret is.”

“Months, huh?” Santana echoes, turning her assessing gaze on Rachel.

Rachel can feel her entire body trembling under the scrutiny, and she wrings her hands together. “Can’t we just…enjoy our breakfast first? Please?” she begs, needing the extra time to gather up her courage now that she’s facing four curious and slightly annoyed faces.

“Kurt, honey,” Blaine soothes, laying a hand on Kurt’s arm. “She made us pancakes.”

“With bananas,” Brittany chimes in, batting her eyelashes at Santana.

Santana’s posture relaxes slightly, and she nods. “I vote we get our eats on before I have to deal with the latest Berry-flavored drama.”

All eyes turn to Kurt, who releases a long suffering sigh. “Fine.”

Granted a momentary reprieve, Rachel distracts herself by dishing out their breakfast while her friends take their seats around the table. Apparently, it’s been at least a month since the two couples have really had a chance to catch up with each other’s lives as well, so they manage to carry on a conversation that doesn’t really involve Rachel very much. Of course, she manages to join in here and there while they eat, but her mind keeps wandering to the various versions of the speech that she’s mentally composed to tell them about Quinn.

Before she realizes it, an hour has passed and everyone’s plates—with the exception of her own—are clean.

“Breakfast was really good, Rachel,” Brittany compliments before popping one last slice of banana into her mouth.

“Thank you, Brittany.”

“How do you get your pancakes so perfectly round?” Blaine asks, smiling.

Pleased that he noticed, Rachel smiles back—though she suspects it’s a little wan compared to her other smiles. “The trick is to use a turkey baster to dispense the same measurement of batter every time.”

“I never thought of that.”

“Yes, and if you…”

“I don’t mean to interrupt this awesome episode of my boring kitchen,” Santana cuts in, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, wait, I totally do. Now that my stomach isn’t writhing with hunger pains, and I’m at least sixty percent awake, I’m ready for this big announcement of yours.”

“Yes,” Kurt practically shouts, raising his hand in mock praise. “Thank you, Santana.”

“Are you leaving New York, Rachel?” Brittany asks with a frown. “Because I think that would make me kind of sad.”

“I’m not leaving,” Rachel assures them.

“Then what the hell is this about?” Santana presses. “You called us all here, plied us with food, you’ve apparently had Kurt’s panties all bunched up for months,” she observes, pointing over at Kurt who’s actually nodding in agreement, “and it’s been all quiet on the crazy Rachel front at Casa de la Pierce-Lopez since the holidays.”

“Santana misses you,” Brittany informs her.

Santana scoffs, shaking her head in denial. “I don’t. I’m just used to the noise,” she explains, her cheeks growing ruddy. “It’s like background music at this point. I get twitchy when it’s too quiet…like that moment in a horror movie right before the monster jumps out and kills you.”

There’s an audible gasp from Kurt’s side of the table, and Rachel glances in his direction to see wide, horrified eyes and fingers pressed over his mouth. “You’re not dying, are you?” he whispers in dismay.

“No,” Rachel is quick to deny. How had this conversation even spiraled to that? “No…I’m fine, Kurt. Perfectly healthy. Really. It’s nothing bad. At least, _I_ don’t think it’s bad,” she insists, frowning when she realizes that, “Okay, admittedly, at first it was confusing and incredibly frustrating, and I certainly can’t say it was particularly _good_ , but now…now it’s really the best thing,” she assures them passionately, trying to organize her words into some semblance of the coherent speech she’d intended to make. “And I think, once you get over the…um…the surprise…you’ll feel the same way.”

When she finally stops rambling, four sets of eyes stare at her in confusion until Santana tosses up her hands and says, “Okay, nobody has any idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Did you realize that you’re really a _Raymond_?” Brittany asks her solemnly. “Because we’ll totally support you.”

Okay, so there was absolutely no coherence in her speech after all, and Rachel concedes that with a defeated, “No. I…I’m seeing…someone. Romantically,” she announces stiltedly, feeling her heart rise into her throat.

“I knew it!” Kurt shouts triumphantly.

“Yeah. Like you knew she was knocked up?” Santana challenges, rolling her eyes.

“I was _speculating_.”

Santana shakes her head at him, turning her attention back to Rachel. “So, you’re seeing someone. What’s the big deal?”

“He has to be married,” Kurt decides with a concerned frown before Rachel has the chance to respond.

“Or _she_ is,” Blaine offers.

“Or shim,” Brittany adds, and when everyone only looks at her, she shrugs. “What? It’s a valid pronoun.”

Santana pulls her eyes away from her wife, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Or it’s someone you know we’ll hate.”

“You promised you weren’t seeing Riley again,” Kurt reminds her.

The churning in Rachel’s stomach grows worse, and she prays her pancakes aren’t going to make a reappearance. “It’s not Riley. It's…” she pauses, licking her lips and swallowing down the lump in her throat. “It’s Quinn.”

Silence meets the revelation, though Rachel can see Santana’s expression darkening in instant comprehension.

“Is that your new costar?” Blaine asks innocently.

Kurt looks equally perplexed. “You’ve never mentioned any…oh,” he stops himself, eyes widening in comprehension. “You can’t mean…?”

“The fucking bitch who bailed on us when Finn died?” Santana supplies with a scowl. “Are you serious right now?”

Rachel presses her palms against the table and draws in a fortifying breath. “Okay….you…you don’t understand. Just let me explain…”

“You’re dating _our_ Quinn,” Brittany repeats, studying Rachel with mix of hope and bewilderment.

“She’s not dating _our_ anything,” Santana refutes bitterly. “Quinn Fabray is as good as dead as far as I’m concerned.”

The statement slams into Rachel with the force of a physical blow, leaving her breathless with the knowledge of how close Quinn had come to actually being dead. “God…don’t. Don’t say that. You don’t know…” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“And I don’t want to know,” Santana informs her bitterly, leaning forward in her chair. “Jesus, Rachel. I know you can still be a doormat sometimes, but I can’t believe you’d even give her the time of day after what she pulled. She wasn’t here! She didn’t even give a shit that you lost Finn…that we _all_ did. Not even a fucking sympathy card. Puta!” she yells, slamming the flat of her palm against the table and making them all wince. Brittany inches closer and rests a hand on her wife’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but Santana is too consumed with anger to be swayed by the gentle touch. “What sewer did she even crawl out of that you tripped over her pathetic ass again?” she wants to know.

Rachel drops her pained gaze to the table top, lifting a hand to quickly brush away the tear that’s escaping from the corner of her eye. “I…I saw her…completely unexpectedly…at the Jets game I sang at,” she admits guiltily.

“In October!” Santana shouts.

“Rachel, why didn’t you say anything?” Kurt asks at almost the same time, the hurt evident in his voice.

Rachel shakes her head helplessly, lifting her increasingly blurry eyes to Kurt. “It's…complicated…”

“Bullshit,” Santana spits. “It’s not complicated at all. You just say, 'hey, I ran into that bitch, Quinn Fabray.’”

“One of the Jets cheerleaders kind of looks like Quinn,” Brittany suddenly interjects, looking to Rachel with questioning eyes. It catches Rachel off guard to realize that Brittany might have recognized Quinn before Rachel even knew she was living so close to all of them, but whatever Brittany sees in her expression gives her the answer she was looking for, and she breathes out a quiet, “Oh.”

“Wait…you saw her?” Santana asks her wife, flabbergasted.

“I…um…I’ve seen some games on television,” Brittany confesses, “but, like, I never could tell for sure if it was her. I mean, they don’t really show the cheerleaders for very long…even though they totally should.”

“Why the hell didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because I know how upset you get when anyone mentions Quinn,” Brittany points out before looking back to Rachel. “And how sad you always get, Rachel. Well… _got_ , I guess, since you’re dating her now, and you seemed more nervous than sad before Santana starting yelling at you. It makes me sad too that she left without saying goodbye,” she admits, turning her gaze back to Santana, “but we can’t force her to be our friend if she doesn’t want to be, San.”

“I don’t want to be her damn _friend_ ,” Santana growls, shrugging off Brittany’s touch. “She bailed on us. Friends don’t do that.” Santana’s angry gaze moves back to Rachel, and she points an accusatory finger in her direction. “And friends don’t fucking keep this kind of information from one another for over four months!”

Rachel knows that her reason for keeping this a secret for so long isn’t one that any of her friends will find acceptable right now. Santana is obviously pissed, Brittany looks heartbroken, and Kurt is hurt and angry. Blaine is the only one who looks like he might actually be open to hearing Rachel’s explanation, but even he seems confused by the whole thing.

“I wanted to tell you,” Rachel chokes out, battling the tears that she can feel stinging her eyes as she looks around the table at her oldest friends. “God, I wanted to so, so much, but…but I only saw her for a few minutes in October, and it left me reeling. I was angry too, Santana. I was so angry at Quinn…and hurt,” she admits shakily, feeling her tears beginning to spill over her cheeks.

“I needed an explanation from her…to find out where she’d gone and _why_. But I didn’t even have a way to contact her at first, and when I finally did manage to get in touch with her…” Rachel trails off, shaking her head as she recalls Quinn’s emotional confession in that bathroom. “I ended up with even more questions,” she acknowledges. “But I did find out that there was a good reason for Quinn’s disappearance.”

Santana huffs out an angry breath. “Oh, I’m sure she fed you some bullshit reason that you bought right into.”

“Santana, please,” Kurt appeals resolutely. “Let Rachel explain.”

Rachel turns grateful eyes to him. “Thank you, Kurt.”

His cool gaze meets hers steadily. “Oh, make no mistake. I’m not thrilled with this information either, but I want to hear all the facts before I remind you that Quinn Fabray has never done anything but cause you pain.”

“That’s not true,” Rachel automatically defends. Logically, she knows that no one else can possibly know just how happy Quinn has made her in the last few months, but she hates how they all just assume the worst of Quinn without even listening what Rachel has to say.

“What did Quinn tell you, Rachel?” Blaine asks kindly—and okay, maybe one of them is actually listening. “Why did she lose touch?”

Santana huffs again, narrowing her eyes. “ _Losing_ touch implies it was accidental. Bitch purposely cut us out.”

“San,” Brittany murmurs. “You don’t know that.”

Taking a breath, Rachel hastily wipes at her tears. “No, Brittany. Santana’s right,” she admits grudgingly. “Quinn did make the decision not to contact us.” She doesn’t tell them— _can’t_ tell them yet—that Quinn still doesn’t want any contact with anyone but Rachel for the time being.

“I fucking knew it,” Santana hisses, clenching her jaw in anger. But Rachel knows her well enough after all these years to see through that to the pain she’s feeling—the attempt to keep her own hurt from transforming into tears that she can’t allow anyone but Brittany to see.

“She didn’t do it to hurt us…or…or because she didn’t care,” Rachel is quick to explain. She feels sick at the thought of verbalizing this—Quinn’s private struggles—but she reminds herself that Quinn had given her permission to tell them. “She…she experienced a mental break when Finn died.”

“Yeah, right,” Santana mutters skeptically, glaring at the wall.

“What does that mean exactly?” Kurt asks evenly.

“It means that Quinn suffers from bipolar disorder,” Rachel reveals, pausing a moment to let that sink in. Santana’s eyes snap up to hers, doubtful, while Brittany chews on her lip quietly, looking puzzled. Kurt stares at her blankly, but Blaine’s mouth falls open in apparent understanding, though he doesn’t say anything.

“Finn’s death triggered an episode,” Rachel continues carefully, “which kept her from being able to come back to Lima for his memorial service. But she didn’t get properly diagnosed for…for a while,” she supplies vaguely because she still doesn’t know exactly when Quinn _was_ finally diagnosed, “and that only made things worse for her.”

“So that’s it?” Santana questions into the silence. “She claims insanity, and you just forgive her for everything?”

“Quinn isn’t _insane_ ,” Rachel fires back heatedly. “But she does have a mental illness that she’s on medication for, Santana. It’s real, and you need to respect that,” she demands firmly. “I…I wish I could explain it better, but I’m still learning about it myself and learning how to…how to be there for Quinn.”

“Great. So it’s real. She had a nervous breakdown or whatever,” Santana dismisses with a shrug, refusing to acknowledge Rachel’s reprimand. “Unless you want to tell me it lasted six years and kept her from using a phone, I really don’t give a shit. She still fucking disappeared on us.”

Rachel opens her mouth to argue, but she’s stopped by Blaine. “My cousin has bipolar,” he reveals, turning to Kurt. “You remember Justin, don’t you?”

Kurt frowns. “Vaguely.”

“It really messed him up for a long time until he got diagnosed,” Blaine continues, offering a sympathetic smile to Rachel. “He’d have these manic episodes that made him do really dangerous things, like playing chicken with a train on his motorcycle. But then he’d lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone for days at a time. And he was…um…cutting himself too. He couldn’t control it at all. My uncle thought he was suicidal for a long time, and he did…um…try that once before he started taking medication,” Blaine finishes sadly, and Rachel feels her stomach twist into knots at the similarities to what Quinn had told her.

“Did Quinn…?” Kurt starts to ask in concern, stopping himself at Brittany’s sad whimper. Even Santana appears suddenly cowed.

“She was in a really bad place,” Rachel shares brokenly. “And she didn’t feel like she could…or should…drag any of us into her problems.” Once again, she doesn’t share the fact that Quinn didn’t really believe any of them would give a damn anyway. “It’s taken four months for her to open up to me even just a little about that time in her life, and there’s still so much that she’s not ready to talk about yet. But she’s getting there…slowly. That’s why I haven’t told you about her sooner. She wasn’t comfortable with anyone else knowing and asked me to wait until she was ready.”

“Of course she did,” Santana mutters. “And you just do whatever she wants even though we’re the ones that have been around for you this whole time.”

Santana’s tone is suddenly less angry and more hurt, and Rachel feels a familiar stab of guilt because— _yes_ , in a sense, she _had_ chosen Quinn over her friends.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve felt so awful keeping this from all of you.”

“But your lady boner for Quinn always trumps everything else, right?” Santana needles, shaking her head. “You know, I used to think it was funny when we were kids, and then kind of sad when you finally figured out five years too late that you actually wanted to bang her. But now…Jesus, Rachel! Is your obsession with her really worth taking a ride on the crazy train?”

“She’s _not_ crazy!” Rachel snaps back angrily.

“Fine,” Santana concedes, throwing up her hands. “She’s not crazy, but it sure as hell sounds like she’s still a complicated mess who always manages to find a new way to screw up her life. If you get involved with her, she’s just gonna drag you down with her, and you shouldn’t have to deal with her baggage. You deserve better than that.”

Oddly enough, Rachel recognizes that, in her own backhanded way and despite her clear anger with Quinn and the entire situation, Santana is concerned about her because they _are_ friends. It’s the only thing that keeps Rachel from losing her own temper at the thoughtless insult to Quinn—and to Rachel, for that matter.

“I respectfully disagree,” Rachel informs her stubbornly. “Quinn is putting her life back together beautifully, and I’m happy that she’s letting me be a part of it. I really care about her, Santana. And underneath all of your anger and hurt,” and, of course, Santana scoffs audibly at that, “I know you still care about her too. Yes, she made some mistakes, but I’ve forgiven her.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Santana declares, loudly scraping her chair against the floor as she stands. “And I’m done with this conversation. Come on, Brittany. We’re leaving,” she announces, stalking toward the living room without looking back.

Brittany sighs, resignedly pushing herself up from her chair. “I’m sorry, Rachel. You know how Santana gets. She’s hurt right now, so she’s being all sharp and pointy,” she explains sadly, walking over to Rachel and reaching out to give her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “But once her edges smooth out, I think she’ll understand that you’re just trying to protect someone you love.”

Rachel sucks in a little breath, eyes glistening at Brittany’s astute observation. “Thank you, Brittany,” she says gratefully, reaching up to lay her hand over Brittany’s and give it a grateful squeeze.

Brittany nods. “Can you tell Quinn…?”

“Hurry up, Britts!” Santana shouts impatiently.

“Just tell her I’ve missed her,” Brittany urges sadly.

“Of course,” Rachel agrees, wondering how Quinn could possibly believe these people don’t care about her.

Brittany nods again, bending to press a quick kiss to Rachel’s cheek. “Take care of her, Rachel,” she whispers.

And then she’s gone, heading out to join her still-upset wife. The sound of coats rustling and a whispered argument can be heard between the two women before the door slams shut, leaving the apartment in silence once again—until Kurt says, “I’m very upset with you.”

Rachel already feels emotionally drained, and she’s not sure she can deal with Kurt’s anger and disappointment on top of Santana’s right now. She’s grateful that he at least waited until Santana had had her say, and she presses a trembling hand to her forehead, breathing out his name in exhaustion.

“You know Quinn Fabray has never been my favorite person,” he continues unimpeded, “after everything she put poor Finn through…not to mention _you_.” Rachel shakes her head, dropping her hand, because she’d forgiven Quinn for all of that when they’d still been in high school. Kurt holds up a hand, silently asking her to let him have his say, and she supposes she owes him that. “Her absence all these years has never particularly bothered me, but I know how hurt you were by it. So forgive me if I’m having some trouble wrapping my head around you going from that to…to _dating_ her…in the blink of an eye.”

“It didn’t happen in the blink of an eye, Kurt,” she corrects him tiredly.

“And that’s what upsets me most,” he informs her. “That you’ve kept this enormous secret from me for months.”

“Only because Quinn asked me to.”

“And you find that acceptable?” he challenges with a raised brow.

“No. Actually, I didn’t,” Rachel admits. She’d asked Quinn to let her tell her friends about her more than once before Quinn had finally agreed. “But I understood why she was asking, and I made the decision to respect her wishes during the delicate period when we were rebuilding our friendship and learning to trust one another again.”

“But you’re _dating_ her!” Kurt exclaims, incredulous.

Despite the wringer she’s just been pulled through, Rachel can’t help the tiny smile that forms on her lips at the reminder that she is, in fact, dating Quinn Fabray. “That part of our relationship is a very recent development.”

Kurt shakes his head as he stares at her. “Since when is Quinn Fabray even attracted to women?”

“Since always, apparently,” Rachel answers, her smile growing a little wider.

Blaine shakes his head at his husband. “You know not everyone realizes their sexual preferences as early as you did,” he points out.

“I’m a perfect example of that,” Rachel reminds him.

Kurt purses his lips thoughtfully. “Well…a longstanding mutual attraction would explain a lot of things about your relationship with Quinn that are otherwise pretty unexplainable,” he acknowledges. “But honestly, Rachel, I’m far more concerned about the bipolar thing. Honey, Santana isn’t entirely wrong. Dating someone with a mental illness seems like a lot to take on, and I can’t help being worried about you.”

“I know, Kurt,” Rachel says with a sigh. She’d known this was coming, and honestly, sometimes she worries about that too, “But I’m handling it, okay? I want this. Quinn is…she’s so smart…and…God, she’s still so, so gorgeous,” she gushes, smiling again as she imagines Quinn’s beautiful face smiling back at her in encouragement. “She takes my breath away. And not just because she’s beautiful, but because she’s so incredibly strong, even after being broken so many times, and knowing everything that she’s been through only makes me lo…admire her more,” she amends at the last moment, not wanting that particular confession to be made to anyone but Quinn. “I mean, she’s going to school to finish her degree, and she’s working as an editorial assistant, and she's…well…she’s a professional cheerleader,” Rachel ends with a blush.

Blaine grins at that. “We’ll definitely need to check out a Jets game now.”

“Heaven help me,” Kurt murmurs, looking up to the ceiling for help despite the fact that he’s still an atheist.

“I…I think I’ve wanted to be with Quinn for a really long time,” Rachel confesses softly. “I just didn’t realize it, but Fate is giving me another chance with her, and I can’t ignore it. Not when she makes me feel…she makes me feel so much, Kurt. Things I haven’t felt since…since Finn died.”

Kurt’s eyes go instantly soft. “Oh, Rachel, honey,” he coos, reaching across the short expanse of table that separates them and holding out a hand that Rachel eagerly grasps onto.

“I have to see where this goes,” she tells him, squeezing his hand, “even though I know there’ll be challenges in being with her. Please tell me you understand.”

“I…don’t completely,” Kurt admits with a sad smile. “But I can see how much she means to you, so I’ll support you, Rachel. Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”

Rachel nods. “As careful as I can be.” Especially when she’s already falling hard.

“For what it’s worth,” Blaine chimes in, “my cousin has been in a pretty stable relationship for about a year now. I don’t know all the details, obviously, but he’s said that they just make sure to keep communicating with each other when he’s going through an episode. Of course, he also says it helps that his girlfriend has the patience of a saint.”

“Well, that could be trouble for you, Rachel,” Kurt attempts to joke.

“Don’t tease her, Kurt,” Blaine chastises with a frown.

Rachel laughs a little, shaking her head. “It’s okay. Being patient with Quinn has been…really hard,” she admits. “But she’s worth it.”

“She’d better be,” Kurt tells her, “because you deserve someone worthy of that Diva-sized heart of yours, Rachel Berry.”

Rachel can see that Kurt is still worried about her and unconvinced that she’s making the right decision, but she’s grateful that he and Blaine are at least trying to understand. It seems like Brittany understands her too, but she’s not sure how long it will take Santana to come around— _if_ she comes around. Rachel only hopes Santana doesn’t do anything stupid like try to track down Quinn on her own. She can’t imagine Quinn would be okay with that.

One thing is certain though—whether or not Quinn is worthy of Rachel’s heart, she already has it.


	16. Fun and Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, March 30, 2020**  
>  Quinn takes Rachel to a nearby bowling alley for their standing Monday date-night, and lots of teasing ensues.

**QUINN:** Mondays are fast becoming Quinn’s favorite day of the week, rivaled only by the Saturdays that she sees Beth. But ever since Quinn started dating (dating!) Rachel six weeks ago, they’ve had a standing date on Monday nights.

They’ve alternated between New Jersey and New York City each week, and tonight finds them in a bowling alley in Belleville, NJ, not far from Quinn’s apartment. Rachel had mentioned needing practice for “knocking down the bottle things” for her Broadway Bowling League, so Quinn thought this would be a fun way to spend some time together—not to mention an excuse for her to give Rachel some hands-on advice.

Although, truthfully, Quinn hasn’t gone bowling in years, and it’s not like she was some amazing bowler, but Rachel doesn’t need to know that. Quinn’s sure Rachel won’t mind at all, and that—that’s still something that amazes Quinn.

But there’s no doubt how happy Rachel is right now. Quinn can see it in her girlfriend’s eyes and in her smile as she slips on her rental bowling shoes, and again she wonders how she got so lucky.

 **RACHEL:** Despite the questionable bowling shoes that Rachel is currently lacing up—she really does need to invest in a pair of her own if she decides to continue pursuing bowling as a sport—the smile won’t leave her face. Her Mondays with Quinn are the best part of her weeks, and her girlfriend is particularly adorable tonight in her skinny jeans and plaid button down, and—yes—even the unattractive blue and red bowling shoes she’s currently wearing.

Rachel had opted for black leggings and the pink and black bowling shirt that Stephanie had given her when she’d talked Rachel into joining the show’s Broadway team, The Devil Wears Bowling Shoes. Sadly, Rachel still isn’t very good at knocking down the bottles—er, pins—but she makes up for it with unparalleled team spirit.

The Brunswick Zone Belleville Bowl seems fairly crowded for a Monday, with its blue neon lights and infectious music, but Rachel supposes the Monday Mayhem special draws in the customers looking to bowl all night for a bargain price. Luckily, Quinn had managed to reserve them a lane, and Rachel is eager to get the ball rolling, so to speak.

With her shoes laced and tied, Rachel bounces to her feet and slides (almost literally) over to Quinn with a wide smile, giggling when Quinn laughs at her antics. “Do you think you can find me a pink ball? I left mine in my dressing room,” she informs Quinn with a pout. It’s enough for her lug the thing from the theatre to Frames every Thursday after the show, she wasn’t about to carry it all the way to Bloomfield too. And tonight is more about spending time with Quinn than bowling.

 **QUINN:** “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” she replies with an amused smile, wondering if she’s actually going to get thoroughly trounced tonight, despite Rachel claiming that she still needs lots of practice. Then again, Rachel isn’t exactly known to be modest when it comes to her talents, so Quinn should be okay.

“But, you know, weight is more important than color. How much does yours weigh?” Quinn asks, her smile growing as Rachel’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly.

 **RACHEL:** Darn Quinn and her perfectly sensible approach to things. “Oh…um…I don’t really know,” Rachel finally admits a little sheepishly. “Stephanie helped me pick it out. After having a dozen balls shoved into my hands, I just went with the one that felt best.”

It’s not until Quinn explodes with laughter that Rachel realizes what she just said, and her face heats. She just knows she’s probably as pink as her shirt right now—but oh, the sound of Quinn’s unrestrained laughter is the best kind of music.

 **QUINN:** She almost feels bad laughing when she sees the furious blush on Rachel’s face, but the happy smile Rachel sends her way, despite her embarrassment, is enough to settle Quinn. “You’re adorable,” she finally says once her laughter subsides, unable to stop the urge to press a quick kiss to soft lips.

Quinn loves that she can do that now, whenever she wants when she’s with Rachel, and that Rachel is all too happy to be on the receiving end of her kisses.

“Let’s see what they have behind the counter,” she says, taking hold of Rachel’s hand. “I’m sure we can find something close to what you’re used to.”

 **RACHEL:** Having Quinn Fabray tell her that she’s adorable never fails to send her old friends, the butterflies, into a tizzy, and being on the receiving end of her kisses—no matter how chaste—makes Rachel want to burst into song. Of course, bursting into song is kind of her thing, but Rachel hasn’t felt quite this inspired to jump up on the countertop and sing out her feelings for all the world to hear since she’d first gotten off the train from Ohio.

With the lively music playing over the speakers at the bowling alley, Rachel just might end up giving everyone here an impromptu performance before the night is through. She wonders if Quinn would mind.

Entwining their fingers together, Rachel grins at her girlfriend. “Lead the way.”

 **QUINN:** A few of the other patrons watch Quinn and Rachel as they walk hand-in-hand though the bowling alley, and Quinn wonders if it’s because they’re both women or if it’s because they recognize Rachel (or both). They’ve been stopped a few times in the city by admiring fans, and even though they’re cutting in on her precious time with Rachel, seeing the way her girlfriend lights up when interacting with fans makes it well worth it.

Still, Quinn is selfishly hoping that no one interrupts them this evening.

“What can I do for you, ladies?” the girl behind the counter asks them once they approach.

“She needs a pink ball…” Quinn replies before turning her head, taking full advantage of the chance to look Rachel up and down, and it makes Quinn feel a little lighter. She reluctantly tears hear gaze away to continue speaking to the girl behind the counter. “I’m guessing eight pounds?”

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t miss the way Quinn not-so-subtly checks her out under the guise of determining the proper ball weight. Quinn doesn’t really need an excuse these days—Rachel is more than happy to be the object of her admiration. In fact, she’d be even happier if Quinn wanted to explore her body with more than just her heated gaze.

Oh, all of their dates since their first date have included plenty of fooling around, but—well—Rachel can now say that she has firsthand experience with Quinn’s old Celibacy Club motto. But Rachel keeps repeating her own mantra of ‘patience’ because she knows that Quinn isn’t quite ready for the ‘pleasing’ portion of their relationship just yet. As blissful as the last six weeks have been, they haven’t been without a few rough patches here and there, so she understands why Quinn still wants to take things slow, but Rachel believes she’s getting better at navigating through the nuances of Quinn’s ever-shifting moods.

And this mood—happy, carefree, flirty Quinn—is one of her favorites.

“Give this one a try,” the clerk prompts, passing a pretty, pink marbled ball over the counter.

Rachel immediately approves of the color and design, and she reaches up to carefully take it with both hands, feeling her muscles flex under the weight as she cradles it against her stomach and turns it around in search of the finger holes. Slipping two fingers and her thumb inside—she absolutely does not make any comments about that after her last verbal snafu—she hefts the ball into one hand to test the weight.

She lifts her arm up and down, catching her tongue between her teeth as she considers the feel of the ball and the tightness of her grip. It doesn’t seem too heavy for her to throw down the lane.

Quinn watches her in amusement, an indulgent grin on her lips, and when Rachel notices this, she pulls the ball back into her chest with a shy smile.

“This one will do.”

 **QUINN:** ‘Absolutely adorable,’ she thinks as she takes in the sight of Rachel’s shy smile.

Quinn offers the clerk a quick thanks before heading back with Rachel to their reserved lane, stealing glances whenever she’s not trying to avoid crashing into the other people milling about the bowling alley. Whenever she catches sight of Rachel cradling that pink ball to her chest, Quinn wonders how it’s possible for someone to be as cute and as sexy as her girlfriend is.

“I figure we can play a few games, then maybe order something to eat,” Quinn says once they get back to their lane, sitting down on one of the chairs in front of the tablet to set up their first game. “Does that sound okay to you?” she adds as she looks up at Rachel, wanting to make sure her girlfriend is okay with that. “Or do you want something to eat now?”

 **RACHEL:** “We should bowl first,” Rachel answers easily, placing her ball down on the return rack before skipping over to claim the chair next to Quinn. “The exercise will work up our appetites.”

Quinn hums her agreement, offering Rachel a grin before turning her attention to the electronic scorecard in front of her. Rachel leans in close to her girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her—just because she can—as she watches their names appear on the screen. Quinn and Rachel. They look so good together, although—

“My name should be on top.” Quinn pauses, turning to her with an arched eyebrow. “It’s alphabetical,” Rachel explains with an impish smile.

 **QUINN:** At the sight of Rachel’s teasing smile, Quinn is unable to stop herself from picturing other ways Rachel could be on top. In fact, it’s something she’s thought of countless times, although, it’s usually the other way around.

“I can’t argue with that,” Quinn agrees with an impish smile of her own, loving the feeling of Rachel’s body curled around her own. “I’m going to make sure you always come before I do.”

And, okay, that might be pushing things a little bit, but despite all the teasing she’s been doing the last six weeks, Quinn really does want to get to the pleasing.

 **RACHEL:** Oh, sweet Barbra! Quinn Fabray just does not play fair. Her wicked double entendre uttered in that sinfully husky voice of hers turns Rachel’s mouth instantly dry and other, unmentionable parts of her instantly wet. Shivers of delight race through her at the images currently dancing in her head—although, she has a few ideas of her own about which one of them will be coming first.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one to argue with…coming first,” Rachel confesses in a low purr, “but I don’t think that’s a promise I’m going to let you keep, Quinn. I’m all about…sharing the spotlight these days.”

 **QUINN:** Hazel eyes darken as Quinn unconsciously licks her lips and sucks in a breath through her nose, trying to tamp down on her suddenly rising libido. Quinn knows she deserves it, although there’s no denying that she loves that Rachel can give as good as she gets, and she’s hoping she’ll soon get to experience firsthand the other ways that Rachel intends to do so.

“Are you now?” Quinn replies with a slight quirk of her lips, but despite her flirtatious demeanor, she’s both relieved and thrilled to know that Rachel wants her just as much as Quinn wants her.

 **RACHEL:** Her eyes helplessly follow the path of Quinn’s tongue across pink lips. Rachel has become intimately familiar with both of them by now, but that doesn’t temper her desire to taste them one little bit. If anything, it makes her crave it more.

So, yes—she’s all about sharing, “With the right person.”

Quinn’s breath hitches slightly at her answer. Rachel mostly loves this little game of teasing and flirting they’ve been playing, especially when she manages to strip Quinn of her typical composure and leave her hot and bothered. It’s only fair when Quinn can do that so easily to her.

 **QUINN:** Affection blossoms in her chest while her desire spikes. No one has ever made Quinn feel both simultaneously, and she almost regrets inviting Rachel out for a night of bowling instead of a night back at her apartment, because right now Quinn wants to kiss Rachel in a way that would be considered downright indecent in public.

She manages to rein in her desire somewhat, but the affection remains, so Quinn is unable to stop herself from pressing her lips against Rachel’s, lingering for just a moment and letting herself feel things she doesn’t know how to say out loud.

Quinn slowly draws back, letting her gaze linger on Rachel’s face for a moment before saying, “Since you insist on your name being on top, you get to go first.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s kiss is all too brief, but the sweetness of it lingers. It’s enough to momentarily sate Rachel’s craving—well, kind of—which is good, since they can’t really do anything more in the middle of a crowded bowling alley anyway.

And speaking of that—Rachel reluctantly slides her arm away from Quinn. “Keep this spot warm for me. I’ll be right back,” she promises with a grin.

Quinn laughs and shakes her head as Rachel bounces up from her seat and makes her way over to the ball return to retrieve her pretty, pink ball. Slipping her fingers inside the holes, she cradles the ball with her other hand as she steps to the end of the lane.

Concentrating on the pins and the markings on the lane, Rachel rolls her shoulders back, mentally aiming. She slides the ball of her right foot back and forth against the floor, twisting her hips a little as she adjusts her stance, and then, biting into her lip, she steps forward and lets her arm fall down and back before she swings it forward, releasing the ball as her feet slide to a stop on the hardwood floor.

The pink ball flies through the air—possibly slightly more than Rachel intended—before it falls noisily onto the lane. Rachel squeals a little, tensing her shoulders and waving at the ball as if she can keep it from rolling into the gutter by sheer force of will.

The path of the ball somehow curves just enough to stay in the lane and take out two corner pins, and Rachel pumps her fist in triumph because she didn’t get a zero, spinning around with a grin to see Quinn leaning back in her chair and watching her with amusement.

 **QUINN:** It’s official: Rachel Berry is the most adorable person on this planet. Quinn can’t stop her lips from curving up into an amused smile at the sight of her girlfriend’s enthusiasm at knocking over two measly pins.

“Need any help?” she asks after Rachel turns to look at her with a happy grin.

Granted, Quinn probably should have been paying more attention to Rachel’s bowling form, especially since she offered to help however she could, but she was admittedly distracted by the view Rachel afforded her of impossibly long legs.

But Rachel doesn’t need to know that.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s pride wants her to say ‘no.’ She fully admits that she’s not the best bowler in the world, but she likes to think that she’s a little better than that performance might lead Quinn to believe. Her first frame is always notoriously bad, and she’s also using an unfamiliar ball this time which made that last roll even worse than normal, but she tends to improve with repetition as she gets a feel for where to aim.

But at the same time, Rachel recognizes that there might be some potential positives in having Quinn help her. There might be some fun to be had in playing the helpless damsel.

“Well, if you’re offering to share your bowling expertise, I’m not going to refuse,” Rachel decides with a playful grin.

 **QUINN:** At Rachel’s assent, Quinn’s out of her chair just in time to retrieve Rachel’s pink ball from the return rack before finishing the short walk to stand in front of her girlfriend.

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert exactly,” she clarifies, unable to keep the flirtatious tone from her voice as she hands Rachel the ball, “but I know enough.”

Brushing her fingertips along the back of Quinn’s hand as she takes it, Rachel raises a knowing eyebrow but seems content to let Quinn humor her for the time being.

“So first we should work on your form,” Quinn continues, placing her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and gently guiding her to turn around until she’s once again facing the lane. Now standing behind Rachel, Quinn leans in, letting her warm breath wash over Rachel’s neck, causing her girlfriend’s breath to hitch and Quinn’s lips to quirk up into a playful smirk.

“You want to keep your shoulders square with the foul line,” she explains, slowly shifting her hands down to Rachel’s upper arms and making the slight adjustment to her alignment. “Your hips too,” Quinn adds, letting her hands drift toward Rachel’s back and sliding her fingers down until she reaches slim hips before lightly gripping on to them.

 **RACHEL:** The feel of Quinn’s hands on her hips and the flutter of hot breath on her neck has Rachel suppressing a moan. She wants nothing more than to drop the ball and lean back into Quinn’s body, but she suspects their neighbors in the next lane might not appreciate the free show.

Biting into her lip, Rachel purposely arches her back ever-so-slightly, rolling her hips under Quinn’s touch. “Where do my hips go?” she asks coyly, eager to see what Quinn has in store for her.

 **QUINN:** She chuckles softly before biting her lower lip, the movement of Rachel’s hips stoking the fire in her lower belly. Quinn could happily play this game with Rachel all night.

“Here,” Quinn replies huskily, tightening her hold on Rachel’s hips and drawing them back as she steps forward, pressing her body flush against Rachel’s back body. “Mmm, perfect.”

 **RACHEL:** Perfect doesn’t even come close to describing what Rachel is feeling right now. This time, she’s unable to suppress the tiny moan that slips past her lips, and behind her, Quinn chuckles quietly, the sound and feel of it vibrating through Rachel in provocative tandem. No—Quinn Fabray does not play fair at all, and Rachel is beginning to realize that she’s never going to top her.

But oh—she can certainly have fun trying.

“Mmm…it’s perfect for something,” Rachel agrees throatily, “but I’m not sure it’s bowling.”

 **QUINN:** “Oh, it’s perfect for bowling,” Quinn assures Rachel, gently pressing her fingers into soft flesh and pressing her hips against Rachel’s backside. “You just have to make sure you’re paying attention to the right things.”

She nuzzles under Rachel’s left ear then, taking advantage of the opportunity to breathe in—savoring the scent of perfume and what she can only describe as ‘Rachel.’

Rachel sucks in a breath then as her eyes fluttered closed, and Quinn smiles against her neck, knowing her girlfriend’s focus is definitely not on bowling, and feeling incredibly pleased about that fact.

“Like knocking over those pins,” she finally whispers.

 **RACHEL:** How on earth is she supposed to pay attention to anything else when Quinn is practically wrapped around her body, nuzzling against her neck, and whispering in her ear? Rachel can barely focus on keeping herself upright—those pins are certainly in no danger from her right now.

Quinn, on the other hand, could easily end up being knocked down into a chair with a lapful of Rachel Berry. She could, but she won’t, since the ambient sounds of the bowling alley are a stark reminder of where they are.

It’s practically a physical ache to keep holding onto the bowling ball when all Rachel wants to do is spin around and kiss her gorgeous, sexy (and wickedly seductive) girlfriend.

Running her tongue over her lips, Rachel tries to force her mind back onto the game—both of them. “How,” she rasps, needing to stop and clear her throat, “how do you want me,” she drawls, intentionally pausing to press her ass back into Quinn, “to knock them over?”

 **QUINN:** Quinn barely manages to stifle the moan that threatens to slip out at the very pleasant sensation of Rachel’s backside pressing into her combined with Rachel’s innuendo, and her mind is assaulted by images of all the ways she wants to eventually have Rachel.

“With finesse,” she husks once she gathers her composure, sliding her hands up, running her fingers up Rachel’s sides and forearms before gently cupping the backs of Rachel’s hands. “It’s all about smooth placement of the ball.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s touch creates a trail of tingles over Rachel’s skin, and her attention is immediately captured by Quinn’s nimble fingers as they curve over Rachel’s hands. She can only imagine the smooth placement of them on certain other parts of her body, and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that Quinn would use them with unparalleled finesse.

“I…I think you need to show me,” she husks.

 **QUINN:** She raises a playful eyebrow as heat pools in her belly at Rachel’s tone. If not for the thumping bass of top 40 hits playing in the bowling alley or the eight-pound ball she’s now helping Rachel hold—reminding her exactly where they are—Quinn would be all too eager to show Rachel all the ways she could make her feel good.

But while their current position is incredibly enjoyable, it’s not exactly conducive to bowling. The thing they’re actually supposed to be doing.

“This is why I should always be on top,” Quinn replies after a beat, pressing her lips close to Rachel’s ear. “Because then I would have gone first and I could have shown you exactly what to do.”

 **RACHEL:** A little shudder races through her at the heated whisper caressing her ear, and Rachel drags in an uneven breath as she swallows down another moan. Once again, her pride is at war with the desire to just submit to Quinn and see where it takes them.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Rachel promises, turning her head slightly so that her temple brushes against Quinn’s cheek. “But for now, you should probably let me…finish, and then you can show me what you’ve got, Fabray.”

 **QUINN:** “Oh, I plan on it,” Quinn replies with a promise of her own, letting her eyes close momentarily as she savors the feeling of Rachel temple against her cheek as breathes in the scent of Rachel’s shampoo.

Quinn presses a soft kiss against the side of Rachel’s head before adding, “Remember, keep your movements nice and smooth so the ball doesn’t hook.” She then reluctantly releasing her hold on Rachel, although she can’t help but trail her fingers along her girlfriend’s arms as she steps back.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s fleeting kiss is all too brief, and Rachel silently mourns the loss of her touch and the heat of her body—although Rachel’s body is still plenty hot enough all on its own. She glances over her shoulder to see Quinn watching her with a sexy smile. Her legs feel a little shaky as she readjusts her stance, and she has to take a moment to regulate her breathing and get her thoughts focused back on bowling.

She’s acutely aware of Quinn’s eyes still on her, but she’s determined not to let it fluster her even more. Quinn has already just about undone her, and she’ll be incredibly happy if she can manage to keep the ball in the lane and maybe knock down another pin or two.

Taking a breath, Rachel tries to keep her movements smooth as she steps forward and releases the ball once again. Amazingly enough, it doesn’t hook nearly as much this time, and she watches five more pins scatter onto their sides.

Rachel knows it was pure luck, but she doesn’t care, and she spins around to beam at Quinn. “So, what do you think of my form now?”

 **QUINN:** This time, Quinn actually pays closer attention to Rachel’s form, although she still takes the opportunity to appreciate the view of her girlfriend’s legs when she releases the ball.

Quinn’s smirk turns into a full-on grin though when Rachel whirls around to beam at her. “Not bad,” Quinn replies with a nod, picking up a black nine-pound ball from the return rack for herself before walking closer to the foul line to stand next to Rachel. “But you know what they say—practice makes perfect.”

 **RACHEL:** “They do say that,” Rachel agrees—though who ‘they’ are has always been a mystery to her.

She somehow doubts ‘practicing’ with Quinn will make her anything but sexually frustrated, not that she’s complaining much. They’re only halfway through the first frame, but this experience is already proving to be so much more stimulating than all of her previous bowling attempts combined.

The memory of going bowling with Finn briefly flashes through Rachel’s mind, but it pales in comparison to tonight, and she sends up a silent apology to Finn. She thinks he’d understand and be happy for her—for both of them really.

Rachel quickly shakes off the odd moment of melancholy and grins at her girlfriend, moving closer to her. “Now, why don’t you show me how perfect your form is?” she prompts, giving into the mischievous urge to deliver a playful slap to Quinn’s tempting backside in those sinful jeans before she steps back to give Quinn room to show off her skills.

 **QUINN:** She’s grateful for the blue lighting that hides the blush that creeps up her neck when Rachel smacks her ass. Quinn has noticed over the last several weeks that her girlfriend really likes that part of her body—she’s already lost count of the amount of times Rachel’s hands have wandered to her backside while making out.

It’s part of why she wore these jeans tonight, knowing that Rachel likes to look just as much as she does touch.

But right now she’s supposed to be showing off her supposed bowling skills, so Quinn figures she should get to it. She cradles the ball to her chest with both hands, making sure her hips and shoulders are square to the foul line as she focuses on the pins. Taking that first step forward, Quinn’s left hand falls away as her right arm swings back—not too high though, barely parallel to the ground. Bringing her arm forward, she takes another step before releasing the ball in a smooth motion and following through.

The ball rolls down the lane and knocks over eight pins, but to Quinn’s annoyance, the seventh and tenth pins still stand, making the possibility of spare really unlikely. Her annoyance instantly fades though when she hears Rachel cheer behind her, her scowl turning into a warm smile as she turns to look at her girlfriend.

 **RACHEL:** The view from where Rachel is sitting very nice indeed. Quinn really should wear jeans more often, although Rachel thinks Quinn looks good in just about anything—and undoubtedly nothing at all (because those cheerleading uniforms of hers don’t leave much to the imagination).

And, of course, Quinn proves to be as good at bowling as she seems to be at everything else remotely athletic, looking perfectly at ease as she effortlessly sends the ball gliding down the lane to take out eight pins in one go. Impressed, Rachel lets out a loud, “Woo! Go, Quinn!” as she claps for her girlfriend.

When Quinn turns to smile at her, Rachel blows her a kiss, offering her own sexy smile in return. “Great form, baby. I’m definitely taking notes.”

 **QUINN:** ‘Baby.’

Yeah, Quinn definitely likes when Rachel calls her that—her heart simultaneously feeling lighter and fuller every time she hears it. And the little kiss that Rachel blows her way makes that feeling grow even stronger.

“Thanks, Rach,” she replies with an easy smile, moving closer to stand beside the return rack, waiting for her ball to return. Quinn still hasn’t settled on a pet name for her girlfriend. It’s kind of hard though when her name is just so perfect as is.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn picks up her ball as soon as it rolls back onto the rack, and Rachel sits back and watches her set up for her second shot. She lets her eyes rake over Quinn’s body once again, reaping the benefits of her front row view while Quinn takes her time lining up.

Rachel is no bowling expert, but she does know the two pins that Quinn left standing are pretty much the hardest to knock over in order to pick up the spare. She wonders if Quinn is good enough to pull it off and decides to pay more attention to her actual bowling form this time rather than her physical form.

Finally ready to make her attempt, Quinn drops her arm and steps forward on a smooth approach to the foul line before letting the ball go.

Rachel waits with baited breath to see where it will go.

 **QUINN:** The ball glides down the right side of the lane straight toward the ten-pin. Quinn’s goal is to hit it on the outside so that it knocks over the seven-pin in the process, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t enough power in her delivery.

The ten-pin falls while the seventh remains standing, thwarting Quinn’s attempt to score a spare in the first frame. She purses her lips in mild frustration—not because she’s actively trying to beat Rachel, but because of that nagging voice inside her that demands perfection.

Fortunately, Rachel’s presence reminds her of why they’re here—to have fun. The results on the scoreboard are secondary.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel cheers again after Quinn sends one of the pins skittering across the floor, and she bounces up from her chair to skip over to her girlfriend as she turns around. “Nice job,” she says, resting her hand on Quinn’s hip and rocking up to press a congratulatory kiss to Quinn’s lips. It might linger just a little longer than is appropriate for the location, but Rachel is still a little worked up from Quinn’s “instruction” session, so she really can’t stop herself from melting into Quinn just a little.

Quinn smiles into the kiss, nipping at Rachel’s lips to prolong the contact before Rachel pulls back with a little hum of pleasure. “Playing with you is going to be a challenge,” she teases.

 **QUINN:** That teeny bit of frustration that lingered disappears the instant Rachel’s lips connect with Quinn’s. Rachel’s kisses are so much better than any personal satisfaction she would ever get from knocking down all ten pins.

“I like to keep you on your toes,” Quinn replies playfully. “Now let’s see if you can top me,” she challenges with a smirk and a raised eyebrow before making her way back to her seat to watch Rachel kick off the next frame.

 **RACHEL:** Oh, Rachel would so very much like to top Quinn.

Shaking off the enticing thought, Rachel flashes her girlfriend a confident grin before she reaches for her ball. Without Quinn within touching distance, serving as an all-too-tempting distraction, she’s determined to improve her performance so she can offer Quinn some real competition.

Rachel takes care to line her shoulders and hips up with the foul line—the way Quinn had showed her—and focuses on the arrows. Even trying to keep her movements fairly smooth on her last turn had resulted in the ball hooking a little to the left, so keeping that in mind, she decides to aim a bit more to the right.

Rachel takes a deep, even breath and concentrates on her steps this time, thinking of them like a choreographed dance. Step right, drop the arm, step left, swing it back, step right, bring it forward, step left, let it fly, and cross.

The ball rolls smoothly down the lane, connecting solidly with the front pins and sending five of them flying. Thrilled with the improvement, she bounces on her toes, applauding her own efforts before she executes a perfect pivot to face Quinn with a challenging smile.

“It’s on now,” she crows, pointing at Quinn as she saunters back over to the ball return.

 **QUINN:** She leans back in her chair, enjoying the sight of Rachel’s hips gently swaying as she walks closer. But even though there’s a sexy playfulness to Rachel’s demeanor, Quinn can see the genuine joy she exudes from improving upon the last frame. And she has always found Rachel’s happiness to be utterly infectious.

“I’m impressed,” Quinn says, raking her eyes over Rachel once more before meeting her gaze and smiling. “Show me what else you’ve got.”

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t miss the way Quinn’s gaze travels appreciatively over her body, and Rachel momentarily abandons the ball return, wandering a few steps closer to the scoring tablet where Quinn is sitting. Resting her palms lightly against the edge of the tablet, she leans forward with her best sexy smirk firmly in place.

“Oh, I intend to,” she promises naughtily, “but first we have to finish bowling.”

The music is too loud for Rachel to hear Quinn’s indrawn breath, but she certainly sees it, and those hazel eyes really are incredibly expressive—right now they’re expressing unconcealed desire. Rachel is extremely pleased with her efforts, and she winks at Quinn before she straightens and turns, putting an extra sway into her hips as she steps back to the ball return and hefts up her ball.

Mentally, she re-choreographs her bowling approach to include a little extra wiggle as she aligns her body with the foul line, smiling as she imagines Quinn’s eyes lingering on her backside. But Rachel knows she isn’t immune to her own game, so she forces the thought of teasing Quinn out of her mind for the moment and concentrates on the lane and the pins in front of her.

As much as she enjoys flirting with Quinn, Rachel can never fully suppress the competitive side of her nature that really wants to win—even when she knows she might not be the best at something—so she puts on her game-face and decides where to aim to give her the best chance of picking up a spare. And she’ll happily accept any little bit of dumb luck that falls her way if it means coming out on top.

Finishing off her turn with a decent effort, Rachel is only a little disappointed when her ball leaves one stubborn pin standing. But it’s still an improvement from her last frame, so she turns around with a smile on her face and heads for a chair.

“Your turn.”

 **QUINN:** The rest of the game continues like that—playful teasing and flirting—and it makes the results on the scoreboard decidedly secondary. After so many heavy moments since their unexpected reunion last fall, tonight is a welcomed reprieve. Quinn honestly can’t remember the last time she had this much fun, although she knows that Rachel’s company is the main reason why.

Rachel’s sexiness combined with her adorable antics endear Quinn in a way no one else ever has. She’s so glad she decided to give this a chance, and she can’t wait to see where things go.

Rachel’s bowling improves with every frame, and when she (inevitably, Quinn thinks) gets her first strike, the jubilant cheer her girlfriend lets out—followed by an exuberant hug and a kiss—leaves Quinn breathless and smiling and feeling lighter than ever.

 **RACHEL:** There are more than a few eyes on them after Rachel celebrates her strike by practically tackling Quinn, but she finds that she doesn’t really care. Sure, there’s a small part of her that still worries that being so open in her relationship with Quinn might have an adverse effect on her future career, but it’s not nearly significant enough for her to sacrifice the happiness she’s found in being with Quinn this way.

And she wouldn’t trade the joy on Quinn’s face right now for anything.

Rachel gazes at her with unbridled affection. “I’m really glad we decided to do this tonight…and I’m not just saying that because this is the best game I’ve ever bowled,” she promises with a teasing grin, lifting her hand to stroke Quinn’s cheek. “I think you might be my lucky charm, so I’m obviously going to need to keep you around indefinitely,” she muses softly.

 **QUINN:** She wraps her arms around Rachel’s waist, holding her close as she soaks in Rachel’s words and soft touch. No one has ever been so sweet to her, and Quinn can’t stop herself from falling for Rachel all over again. Except this time, she’s not worried about hitting the ground. At least, not the way she was back in high school.

There’s still that lingering worry that Quinn will manage to screw this up eventually, but it’s a distant thought right now.

“I’m definitely not opposed to that,” Quinn replies, lightly pressing her forehead against Rachel’s and gazing into warm, brown eyes—content to stay here like this with Rachel a few moments longer—before finally extracting herself so she can take her turn.

 **RACHEL:** Sighing happily, Rachel settles down into a chair to admire Quinn’s form a little more while she takes her next turn, cheering for her again when she bowls a strike of her own, though it’s certainly not her first one of the night. Quinn had improved upon her first frame and stayed pretty consistent after that, bowling a few strikes and picking up easy spares, so even though Rachel’s name is on top on the scorecard, Quinn keeps topping Rachel on the score.

Their last few frames go by fairly quickly with Quinn unsurprisingly edging out Rachel for the win, and while Rachel is a little disappointed that she lost, she’s proud that she managed to keep the game as close as she had—it really is the best one she’s had since she started bowling again—and she finds that she’s honestly happy to share in Quinn’s victory.

So when Quinn turns around with a triumphant smile, already knowing that she’s won, Rachel is right there waiting to concede her defeat and congratulate the victor with an enthusiastic kiss.

Losing never felt so good.

 **QUINN:** Her eyes close briefly when Rachel’s lips touch hers—her body thrumming with the happy buzz of victory combined with the blissful feeling of being on the receiving end of her girlfriend’s affections. Quinn decides then that if Rachel’s kisses are her reward, she has every incentive to keep winning.

“You up for another game, or should we get something to eat now?” Quinn asks once their lips part, slipping one arm around Rachel’s back, not wanting to break contact completely.

Even though Rachel originally suggested they play a few games first, Quinn wants to check in with her. It also gives her an excuse to hold on to Rachel a little longer.

 **RACHEL:** Being in Quinn’s arms is nice, and Rachel leans into her a little more while she considers their options. On the one hand, if they bowl another game, Rachel might actually be able to improve enough to beat Quinn. One the other hand, she is starting to get a little hungry—for actual food, because she’s been hungry for Quinn since they’d started their little game of back and forth flirting.

Rachel naughtily wonders if Quinn would let her pencil in the option of heading back to her apartment for a quick bite so they can follow up all the teasing with some much needed pleasing.

Sighing, she decides to hold off on that for a bit, admitting, “I could actually go for some food now. We can always play another game later.”

Or—do other things.

 **QUINN:** She watches Rachel’s changing thoughts play out in expressive, brown eyes—intrigued by what she thinks might be going on in her girlfriend’s mind—and Quinn doesn’t miss the little sigh Rachel lets out or the hunger in her gaze that Quinn knows has little to do with food.

Her lips curve up slightly, and she would almost feel bad about all the teasing she’s been doing, but Quinn intends to follow through.

Eventually.

“Okay, let’s get you something to eat then,” Quinn agrees before leading Rachel over to the area where they sell food—consisting mostly of pizza and french fries and other things that are terrible for Quinn’s waistline.

 **RACHEL:** The snackbar really isn’t anything resembling a five-star restaurant, not that Rachel needs that every time they go out. She’d kind of resigned herself to greasy, fried food when she’d agreed to go bowling. Studying the limited menu, Rachel crosses her arms and lifts a finger to tap against her chin as she contemplates what to order.

The hamburger isn’t an option for her, though she does see the small print underneath the menu that proclaims they actually have a garden version. The fries can be ordered as a standalone item with or without melted cheese. The personal pizza could be an option—without the pepperoni of course.

She’s going to have to spend at least an extra hour working this off tomorrow morning regardless of what she chooses.

Glancing at Quinn, she asks, “Do you want to share a cheese pizza with me? We can be bad together,” she teases.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s teasing comment floods Quinn’s mind with all kinds of ways they can be bad together, and none of them involve food.

Biting her lower lip, Quinn lets herself linger on those thoughts a moment longer before replying, “Sounds perfect. Being good is overrated anyway,” she adds with a sexy smirk.

 **RACHEL:** “So very overrated,” Rachel agrees with a sexy grin of her own, running her fingers down Quinn’s arm. Her girlfriend’s smirk transforms into something a little more hungry—and not for the pizza. Rachel figures it’s only fair.

Stepping up to the counter, she places the order for the pizza, and they both decide to get water to drink. Quinn tries to pay, but Rachel beats her to it, reminding her that, “You paid for the lane.”

The teenage boy behind the counter smirks at the exchange, and Rachel can only imagine where his mind is at as his lascivious gaze moves back and forth between them. She narrows her eyes, frowning at him disapprovingly, but it’s Quinn’s cool glare that has him finally shifting uncomfortably and scurrying away to prepare the order.

Rachel giggles, glances over at Quinn and watching her girlfriend’s hard expression immediately melt into amusement as they share a laugh. It only takes a few minutes for the pizza to be ready, indicating they’re probably precooked and frozen, and the boy lets his less assuming coworker finish the transaction by sliding the tray across the counter.

Quinn gallantly picks it up, and they weave their way through the tables lining the front of the snackbar area until they can claim a clean one for themselves.

 **QUINN:** She can’t deny the feeling of satisfaction she gets from making the boy behind the counter essentially cower with merely a look. Although, it’s nothing compared to the feeling she gets from hearing Rachel laugh, and Quinn finds it so easy to let go enough to join in.

She loves that she can be herself around Rachel, and it’s somewhat amazing that something so simple—sharing pizza in a bowling alley—could make Quinn so happy.

They eat in companionable silence (well, relatively speaking—the top 40 hits continue to play overhead), but that feeling of contentment never leaves Quinn.

“Thanks for coming out here tonight,” she says after finishing her first slice. “I wish I had more than one night a week to spend with you.”

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s first instinct is to echo the sentiment—she does absolutely wish she could spend more time with Quinn—but Quinn’s innocent comment sends a tiny spike of apprehension twisting in her belly at the thought that maybe the exhausting, often inconvenient schedule that her career demands coupled with the not-insignificant distance between their apartments might eventually interfere with their blossoming relationship.

It’s almost like they’re engaged in a long distance relationship without the distance being all that long, and it can be hard to settle for phone calls and video chats for the six days when their schedules just don’t match.

Rachel has met quite a few actors who seem to believe that only another actor can truly appreciate what it means to work in this industry and that attempting a relationship with anyone outside of it is doomed to failure. Actually, Riley had been one of those people, but considering that they’d ultimately crashed and burned exactly because they were both competing in the industry, Rachel isn’t sure she believes it. Of course, the only semi-successful relationship Rachel has ever managed to sustain was with Finn—the one non-actor (despite Rachel’s attempts to make him otherwise) she’d dated before Quinn—and considering the fact that they were broken up when he died, even that doesn’t bode well for her.

“I wish that too, Quinn,” Rachel says before frowning a little, “but as long as I’m working on Broadway, I’m afraid I’m never going to have very many evenings or weekends to share with you. Of course, we could have mornings…eventually,” she points out with a shy half-smile, but until they reach the stage where Quinn is amenable to spending the weekends with Rachel at her place, this is what they’re left with for as long as Rachel is working. “Is…is my schedule something you’ll be okay with in the long run?”

 **QUINN:** The long run isn’t something Quinn lets herself think about too much if she can help it. She would rather focus on the now rather than worry about the uncertainty of the future. But the fact that Rachel wants this to be a long-run thing warms Quinn and makes her feel a little more settled.

Quinn nods. “You’re worth it,” she assures Rachel. “And I like the idea of spending mornings with you,” she continues, letting herself imagine it briefly as she smiles. It’s something she actively yearns for now. “I know we didn’t talk about it, but you could stay the night… if you want to.”

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s heart soars at Quinn’s first words, and then her breath catches at the invitation to spend the night. Regardless of whether Quinn means for them to finally follow up the teasing with the pleasing or just cuddle in her bed and actually sleep, Rachel isn’t going to say ‘no.’ She has nowhere to be until tomorrow evening, and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be than right here with Quinn.

“I absolutely want to,” she says without pause, reaching across the table to take Quinn’s hand. “In whatever capacity you want.”

 **QUINN:** She presses her lips together, trying to suppress the wide smile that threatens at Rachel’s agreement to stay the night—knowing that she has so much more time with Rachel leaves her feeling elated.

And even though Quinn would like to take things a bit farther with Rachel on the intimacy front, there’s a measure of relief that comes with Rachel’s assurance that there’s no pressure there.

Gently squeezing Rachel’s hand, Quinn gazes affectionately at her girlfriend. “Let’s see where tonight leads us.”

 **RACHEL:** She’s certain tonight can only lead them to good things, and Rachel grins widely, looking forward to having the entire night and part of the morning with Quinn. Just thinking about waking up in Quinn’s arms has those butterflies jumping for joy. And having breakfast with her in the morning sounds like heaven.

“I can’t wait to find out,” she murmurs, offering Quinn a playful smile. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

 **QUINN:** “Likewise,” she replies happily, returning Rachel’s smile with one of her own before reaching for a second slice of pizza—struggling with it just a bit because she refuses to let go of Rachel’s hand.

Rachel laughs lightly before taking mercy on Quinn and helping her get the slice onto her plate.

“Thanks, Rachel,” Quinn says with a half smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It’s said playfully, but there’s definitely a deeper truth to it. Now that Rachel’s in her life again and they’re in a relationship, Quinn doesn’t want to be without it.

 **RACHEL:** “I don’t plan on letting you find out,” Rachel assures her, watching as a flush of happiness appears on Quinn’s face. She loves the way it looks on her. She loves—well, that’s something she’s getting closer and closer to telling Quinn.

Soon enough, they finish their pizza and decide to enjoy another game of bowling. Returning to their lane, Rachel insists that Quinn go first this time even though her name is still on top—rightfully so—and Quinn agrees, starting off with a strike. Rachel takes it as a challenge, employing the little tricks that Quinn had taught her and taking advantage of the practice she’d gotten in the first game.

The score is even closer this time, but ultimately, Rachel needs to get a strike on the first shot of the last frame to even have a chance of pulling off the win, but she doesn’t quite manage it, picking up a spare instead and knocking down eight pins on her last roll. Quinn beats her by five points.

After that, they turn in their bowling balls and shoes, and Quinn drives Rachel back to her apartment. It’s not until Quinn is about to open the door that Rachel thinks to ask her, “Is Kaitlyn home tonight?”

 **QUINN:** She pauses at Rachel’s question. “Yeah, she should be,” Quinn answers softly. “She told me this morning that she was planning on coming home right after work. You know how she doesn’t like to miss an episode of _The Voice_ ,” she adds with an affectionate eye roll. “But that should keep her pretty occupied while we hang out in my room… unless you want to watch, too. I’m fine either way.”

Quinn knows from previous Monday nights at her apartment that Rachel likes watching the show with her roommate, while Quinn is just happy to cuddle on the couch with Rachel as she does so. But tonight feels a little different, and she thinks Rachel might want to skip that.

 **RACHEL:** She does enjoy critiquing the contestants (and the judges) with Kaitlyn, but she’s still buzzing with the thrill of being here for the night and the lingering arousal that Quinn had inspired in her earlier in the evening. She doubts her attention would be on the show tonight when her senses are so tuned in to Quinn.

“I think Kaitlyn will understand if I choose you tonight,” Rachel decides with a grin, curling her hand around the back of Quinn’s neck to bring her closer for brief but meaningful kiss before they go inside.

 **QUINN:** “Mmm, I’m sure she she will,” Quinn agrees with a sultry smile, her lips still tingling from Rachel’s kiss.

Eager to continue kissing Rachel (and potentially doing more than that), Quinn finally opens the front door to her apartment, letting Rachel go first. As expected, Kaitlyn is sitting on the love seat with Piazza curled up in her lap, watching television, but she looks over as Quinn and Rachel walk in, offering them a warm smile before saying hello.

Kaitlyn has been their number one cheerleader—well, besides Stephanie, but Quinn doesn’t see her as often as Rachel sees Kaitlyn—and her genuine happiness for Quinn makes her feel that much more content.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Rachel and I are going to hang out in my room. Rachel’s spending the night,” Quinn informs her roommate, knowing that it won’t be an issue. After all, Michael spends at least one night a week here.

Blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “Of course I don’t mind. My baby will keep me company,” Kaitlyn replies, scratching behind Piazza’s ears. “Maybe I’ll see you guys in the morning?”

 **RACHEL:** “I’m sure you will. I won’t be in any hurry to leave,” Rachel says with a smile, blushing when she realizes how that sounds—true as it may be for all the reasons Kaitlyn is probably thinking. “I mean, I don’t need to be back in Manhattan until tomorrow afternoon,” she explains needlessly, blushing a little more when Kaitlyn gives her knowing smirk.

Quinn laughs lightly, and after bidding her roommate goodnight, she leads Rachel into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Grinning, Rachel tosses her purse away and faces Quinn before innocently folding her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. “So, how shall we pass the time?”

 **QUINN:** The faux innocence of Rachel’s demeanor combined with those doe eyes looking at her has Quinn’s body instantly responding , and it takes all her effort not to step into Rachel’s space, pull her in close, and kiss her until they both can’t breathe.

But these games they play are too much fun for Quinn to give in just yet. Hazel eyes darken as she drinks in the sight of Rachel, standing here in her bedroom, without anyone else around.

“I was thinking we could put on a movie,” she says, slowly stepping closer to Rachel as she does, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and pressing their foreheads together, “and not watch it.”

Quinn is unable to resist the temptation of having Rachel’s lips so close to her own, so she closes the short distance between them, pressing a kiss against Rachel’s mouth. The response is immediate—Rachel’s hands find their way to Quinn’s upper back as she rocks forward on her feet. But just as Rachel tries to deepen it, Quinn smiles and slowly pulls away, watching her girlfriend’s reaction.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s sultry tone and her all-too-brief kiss has Rachel’s arousal instantly rushing back to the surface, and she nearly whimpers when Quinn pulls away with a sexy smirk on her lips. Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing to Rachel, and she’s loving it.

“The not watching it part sounds nice,” Rachel murmurs, lightly scratching her nails over Quinn’s shoulders as she tries to entice her into another kiss.

 **QUINN:** A pleasant shiver runs through Quinn at the feeling of Rachel’s nails on her back, and she unconsciously licks her lips in response to Rachel’s words before curving them up into a sensual smile.

“I’m glad you agree,” Quinn husks, slowly rubbing her thumbs up and down Rachel’s lower back. She brushes her lips against Rachel’s but doesn’t linger, earning a pout from Rachel, which is truthfully very difficult to resist. “Any preferences for tonight’s movie?”

 **RACHEL:** The stroke of Quinn’s thumbs against her back is making it increasingly difficult for Rachel to focus on anything but getting closer to Quinn, especially when she’s already distracted by the motion of Quinn’s lips forming words that barely matter in the seconds before they tease Rachel with another fleeting kiss.

Frustrated, Rachel puffs out her lower lip and gazes at Quinn with unconcealed longing. “Since we’re not watching it anyway, I think _French Kiss_ seems apropos,” she offers huskily.

 **QUINN:** “Hmm, good choice,” Quinn agrees, a pleasant thrill running through her at Rachel’s words and the look in her eyes. And those pouting lips and the memory of the feeling of Rachel’s tongue has Quinn wanting to do exactly that with Rachel.

Granted, Quinn has no idea if the movie even available on Netflix, but it hardly matters if they’re not actually going to watch it. And there’s a good chance she’ll never get a chance to turn her television on, let alone look for a movie, because Rachel’s mouth is oh so tempting, and Quinn has teased her girlfriend enough.

“And definitely apropos,” Quinn adds before taking mercy on them both and capturing Rachel’s lips with her own.

 **RACHEL:** ‘Finally,’ Rachel thinks, eagerly falling into Quinn’s kiss. Her lips part instantly, and she presses closer to her girlfriend’s lithe body, savoring the feel of her curves as she lets her open hands wander over Quinn’s muscled back.

One of Quinn’s hands travels lower to cup Rachel’s ass while the other slides up to delve into her hair and hold her in place as she deepens the kiss. Rachel moans softly, her hips rocking forward as her fingers slip underneath the edge of Quinn’s shirt—just far enough to feel the heat of her skin. She wants to be touching Quinn everywhere all at once and have Quinn touch her everywhere in return.

Arousal spikes with every stroke of Quinn’s talented tongue, and Rachel’s hands inch a little higher. All thoughts of not watching movies fly out of her head—this version of French kiss is much, much better.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s body feels so good against Quinn’s, and those soft hands on the bare skin of her back send small ripples of pleasure through her. But even better than that is how Rachel responds to her kisses—Quinn can practically feel Rachel’s want, and a part of her still can’t believe that this is even happening.

But it’s happening, and Quinn is savoring every touch and taste.

Tightening her grip ever so slightly, Quinn then guides Rachel backwards until the backs of her knees hit the mattress of her bed, gently coaxing her girlfriend to sit even as she leans forward and continues kissing her.

 **RACHEL:** When Rachel feels the back of her legs bump the edge of Quinn’s bed, she immediately allows Quinn to guide her down and urge her back further into the center of the bed. Her body is practically vibrating with anticipation, wanting nothing more than to have Quinn press her into the mattress while she thoroughly demonstrates her exceptional kissing technique—preferably on every inch of Rachel’s body.

Rachel moans softly at the wicked images that pop into her head, and her legs part to make room for Quinn’s body as she slowly moves over Rachel, following her down, while Rachel’s curious hands drag higher on her girlfriend’s back to pull her closer, pushing her shirt higher and higher around her ribs. The tip of her tongue teases at Quinn’s glorious lips before her teeth catch them in a gentle bite, and it’s Quinn’s turn to moan—her fingers curling into Rachel’s thighs.

Rachel really can’t resist the urge to throw one of her legs over Quinn’s, aligning their hips in the most delightful way as she smiles against Quinn’s mouth, almost purring in pleasure. “Mmm…you feel so good, baby.”

 **QUINN:** Quinn’s mouth falls open in pleasure as Rachel pulls her closer. They breathe each other in as Rachel teases and tempts Quinn’s lips.

“Mmm, I’m glad you think so, because all I want is to make you feel good, Rachel,” Quinn confesses in a soft breath before rocking her hips forward and pressing against Rachel, earning her a soft moan and a tightening of hands against her shoulder blades.

Pink lips curve into a satisfied smirk. “You like that, baby?” she asks, deciding she likes the way the pet name sounds on her tongue as she rolls her hips once more and watches Rachel’s face carefully.

 **RACHEL:** Does she like it?

As if Quinn even has to ask.

Rachel is currently floating in a sea of sensation—her body, heart, and mind completely submerged in Quinn. Tendrils of desire race through her blood and over her skin from every contact point between their bodies, and her back arches slightly in an attempt to increase the magnificent friction Quinn’s hips keep offering in too-fleeting tastes. Eyelids fluttering closed, Rachel practically whimpers in pleasure.

She drags her nails over Quinn’s back once again and then changes direction so that she’s scratching them lightly against Quinn’s ribs. Her fingers catch the edge of Quinn’s bra and itch to go further—to push the material away and explore the perfect curves of her breasts. It’s been so long since she’s wanted someone as much as she wants Quinn right now.

But beyond the physical, Rachel’s heart is soaring from Quinn’s vow—the earnest desire to make Rachel feel good—followed by the endearment that sounds far more sensual than sweet on Quinn’s lips. Having Quinn call her ‘baby’ somehow makes Rachel melt and catch fire at the same time, and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that Quinn intends to follow through with her promise to make sure Rachel always comes first.

“I love it,” Rachel murmurs—barely managing to mentally edit that last word so this moment won’t be complicated with things Quinn probably isn’t ready for them to say just yet. But oh, Rachel is very much feeling it, and it only makes her want Quinn all the more.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s touch is somewhat distracting—every inch of skin those talented fingers caress sends a spark of warmth through Quinn—but she loves having this affect on Rachel. She loves making her feel good, and the physical connection between them right now allows Quinn to express just how much she loves Rachel, because the words themselves are far too scary right now.

Quinn lowers her mouth once more to capture soft lips in a heated kiss as she starts rocking her hips in a steady rhythm, getting lost in the feeling of Rachel’s body arching against her, fingers wandering and occasionally digging into the skin of Quinn’s back, the taste of her lips, and the sweet scent of her perfume.

 **RACHEL:** The steady rock of Quinn’s hips is doing amazing things to Rachel. The thin material of her leggings is proving to be a blessedly weak barrier against the seam of Quinn’s jeans, and the hard nub of denim at the base of the zipper is rubbing against Rachel in exactly the right place. Every movement creates sparks of pleasure, feeding the fire, and Rachel wraps her legs around Quinn in an effort to increase the sensation, gasping at the blissful result when Quinn presses into her again.

“Oh…don’t stop,” she moans mindlessly against Quinn’s lips, digging her nails into Quinn’s back as she cants her hips.

She’s almost embarrassingly wet right now and so very turned on that Quinn could very well succeed at making her come just like this—and they haven’t even taken off a single piece of clothing! As much as Rachel wants to rectify that oversight, she really doesn’t want Quinn to stop doing exactly what she’s doing right now.

 **QUINN:** “Wasn’t planning on it,” Quinn breathes against Rachel’s mouth, feeling warmth spread through her as the desire between them steadily builds to a fever pitch—their bodies moving in perfect sync. Despite them both still being fully clothed, with the way Rachel is wrapped around Quinn and those brown eyes blown black with desire gaze up at her, she’s never felt so connected to another person before.

Quinn’s breaths grow heavier as she continues to cant her hips, and Rachel lets out a soft gasp as her fingers clutch at Quinn’s back. It’s enough to push Quinn closer to the edge, but she fully intends to keep her promise of making sure Rachel always comes first.

 **RACHEL:** She’s going to come. She has absolutely no doubt. Her stomach muscles tighten, her thighs tremble, and ripples of pleasure radiate out from her center with every thrust of Quinn’s hips. Her hands scrabble for purchase on Quinn’s body, pressing against the heated skin of Quinn’s back while her own body arches and writhes in an effort to get impossibly closer.

Forcing her eyes to stay open, Rachel focuses on Quinn’s face—a breathtaking mix of desire, bliss, and determination as she gazes intently at Rachel between breathless kisses and soft moans. It’s as if Quinn needs to catalogue every, single one of Rachel’s reactions to her, and in doing so, Rachel can see the endless chasm of emotion left completely unguarded behind hazel eyes.

It’s everything.

All for her.

And it’s more than enough to send Rachel tumbling into ecstasy.

 **QUINN:** When Rachel comes—back bowed, body trembling beneath Quinn as her mouth falls open, letting out a soft cry—Quinn swears she’s never seen anything more beautiful in her life. She does her best to keep her eyes open, wanting to focus on Rachel’s face, but her own pleasure is building, and Quinn can’t hold on any longer.

The rhythm of her own hips stutters then, and Quinn gasps as her eyes roll back, following Rachel over the edge.

 **RACHEL:** The aftershocks of her climax are still rocking through Rachel when Quinn’s body goes rigid above her and the most amazing sound falls from her lips. She forces her eyes open just in time to witness the beauty of Quinn’s release—her face awash in rapture—and she’s right there to catch Quinn when she finally collapses bonelessly on top of Rachel.

Still struggling to catch her breath, Rachel instantly wraps her arms around Quinn and holds her as close as she can with trembling arms, grinning blissfully when she feels Quinn nuzzle her neck—brushing a kiss against the damp skin there.

“Wow,” Rachel breathes out. “If you can do that to me fully dressed, I can’t wait to see what you can do when our clothes come off.”

 **QUINN:** She smiles against Rachel’s skin, feeling a swell of pride in response to her girlfriend’s words. But more than that, Quinn feels content and safe and cared for here in Rachel’s arms. It’s not often that she’s held like this after she comes, but she trusts Rachel and savors this moment of quiet intimacy in the afterglow.

Quinn presses another soft kiss to the curve of Rachel’s neck before pushing herself up on her forearms to look at Rachel once more, and the sated smile that greets Quinn has her own lips tugging further up.

“Me neither,” Quinn replies before biting her lower lip, thinking about all the ways she’ll make Rachel feel good. “I intended on getting you a little more undressed, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. You’re kind of irresistible.”

 **RACHEL:** “I know I am,” Rachel responds with a cheeky grin as she gazes up at her gorgeous (and wonderfully disheveled) girlfriend. She can feel the quiet chuckle vibrate through Quinn—bodies pressed together as they are—and she brings a hand up to stroke Quinn’s cheek. “But so are you,” she whispers adoringly.

And Rachel has no desire to even try to resist Quinn ever again. There’s an ‘I love you’ dancing on the tip of her tongue—desperate to escape into the air between them—but she swallows it down for the moment. She doesn’t want the first time she says the words to happen right after they’d dry-humped each other into mutual orgasms in the middle of Quinn’s bed with her roommate watching _The Voice_ in the next room.

So Rachel says it without words, lifting her head off the mattress far enough to close the scant distance between them and capture Quinn’s lips in a soft kiss filled with everything she’s feeling.

 **QUINN:** This kiss feels different than the ones that came before—the desire has lessened but it’s no less intense, filled more with the yearning of their hearts as opposed to their bodies—and Quinn practically melts into it.

She never thought she’d ever have this kind of connection with Rachel—it was something she had wistfully longed for all those years ago—but the real thing so far surpasses any of Quinn’s imaginings. Actually being the focus of Rachel’s affections makes Quinn happier than she even knew possible.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s kiss arouses all of Rachel’s tender emotions, and she wants to believe that she can feel all of Quinn’s emotions being poured into her in kind. When their lips part, Rachel sighs in contentment and feels herself fall a little deeper.

She knows their relationship isn’t perfect by any means—Quinn still isn’t ready to spend time with any of Rachel’s friends apart from Stephanie, and there are moments when Quinn’s mind takes her to dark places—but right now it feels pretty close. She hasn’t felt this happy in a very long time, and the way Quinn is looking at her right now makes her heart soar.

“Can we just stay here forever?” she murmurs dreamily.

 **QUINN:** “I’d like that,” Quinn replies with a soft smile, loving how in sync Rachel is with her. Sometimes, like right now for instance, it’s almost as if Rachel read her mind.

“I’m so glad you’re staying over tonight,” Quinn confesses, “because I really don’t want you to go.”

 **RACHEL:** “Well, that works out well, because I’m not going anywhere,” Rachel promises, reaching up to tuck a strand of messy blonde hair behind Quinn’s ear. The light-hearted grin on Quinn’s lips is absolutely adorable, and Rachel feels her own lips curving to match. She almost feels like she’s sixteen again—albeit having just been skillfully debauched in ways her sixteen-year-old self hadn’t yet dared to dream about.

Biting into her lip, Rachel gazes up at Quinn a little shyly. “So I hope you’re not opposed to lending me something a little more comfortable to sleep in. I didn’t exactly…come prepared.”

 **QUINN:** “Not a problem,” Quinn replies easily, very much liking the idea of Rachel wearing her clothes—especially her pajamas. “But I really don’t feel like moving just yet… I like it here,” she adds before dropping another kiss to Rachel’s lips.

Quinn is in no hurry to break their kiss, but she’s content to follow Rachel’s lead and let her girlfriend be the one to pull away, deepen it, or stay just like this.

 **RACHEL:** Threading her fingers into Quinn’s hair, Rachel sinks into the kiss. The ever-present desire that sparks so easily between them is currently muted somewhat by the pleasant lethargy from her recent release, and Rachel is more than content just to enjoy trading lazy kisses with Quinn until they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

When they do eventually part, Rachel assures Quinn that, “I like having you here. You can stay as long as you want. We have all night.”

Quinn hums in agreement, smiling down at Rachel before shifting her weight and dropping down onto the mattress next to her. Their bodies naturally realign, curving into each other until their legs are tangled together and they’re content in one another’s embraces. Rachel doesn’t plan to ever let go.


	17. The Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Monday, April 13, 2020**  
>  A night of celebrating Quinn’s birthday takes an unexpected turn.

**RACHEL:** Tonight, they’re celebrating.

Rachel has spent most of the day tidying up her apartment in anticipation for their date. Every nook and cranny is spotless, and there are fresh sheets on her bed. She doesn’t think she’s being too presumptuous—they’ve shared a bed before. They just haven’t shared one without some form of clothing between their bodies and the sheets. Rachel is hoping tonight will be the night when that finally changes.

But that’s not what (or why) they’re celebrating.

Yesterday was Quinn’s twenty-sixth birthday, and tonight, Rachel is cooking a (belated) birthday dinner for her gorgeous girlfriend. And okay—technically the vegetarian linguine with cauliflower and brown butter sauce accompanied by a spinach salad isn’t exactly the most complex meal Rachel could have chosen to show off her hard-won culinary skills, but she’s hoping Quinn will enjoy it nevertheless. She even has some crumbled bacon and a (soon-to-be) hot bacon dressing ready to be added to the mix should Quinn prefer some form of dead animal product with her otherwise vegetarian meal.

There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator if Quinn decides to indulge with a small glass, but otherwise, Rachel is stocked with sparkling cider, sparkling water, coffee, tea, and juice. And because she knows Quinn is being careful about her sweets, especially now that she’s made the Jets Flight Crew for another season, Rachel had baked a flourless, gluten-free, honey almond cake for dessert that Quinn can sample with almost no guilt.

The table is set and adorned with candles, the stereo is playing a soft mix of Motown classics and ballads, and Rachel is dressed and ready for Quinn to arrive.

She’s opted for a simple blue dress for the occasion—not too terribly fancy and modestly cut on top but with a short enough skirt to show off her legs. Just because they’re staying in doesn’t mean Rachel shouldn’t dress up a little for her girlfriend. She wants tonight to be perfect.

She’d even arranged for a car to pick up Quinn at her apartment and deposit her on the doorstep of Rachel’s building so she wouldn’t have to take the train (and a subway and walk six blocks). Quinn had protested that it wasn’t necessary, of course, but Rachel had insisted. After all, Rachel had been the one to take a taxi to Bloomfield yesterday morning just so she could take her girlfriend out to breakfast on her actual birthday, complete with a dozen red roses and a hardback copy of _Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox_ that Rachel had managed to locate. Unfortunately, Rachel had needed another taxi to drive her back into Manhattan just a few hours later so she could make her two o'clock matinee.

Quinn had thought she was crazy to expend so much effort for a few hours, but Rachel thinks it was absolutely worth it.

Quinn is worth it.

And in a few more minutes, she’ll be here.

 **QUINN:** Yesterday was the best birthday Quinn’s had in… well, ever. Even though she only got to spend a few hours with Rachel, the fact that her girlfriend had made the effort to be with her (and brought her flowers and a book no less!) made her day.

And now she’s moments away from picking up from where they left off yesterday morning, and Quinn can’t stop the smile that forms, knowing she’s about to see Rachel again—and that her girlfriend is making her dinner. It never fails to make warmth blossom in her chest and send her falling harder.

Quinn definitely likes being the recipient of Rachel’s affection and attention—no one has ever made her feel so special.

Finally reaching the fifth floor landing of Rachel’s apartment building, Quinn feels a small rush of excitement, her pace quickening ever so slightly down the hall until she’s standing in front of Rachel’s door. Letting out a breath, Quinn smooths down the front of her yellow dress, wanting to look her best for Rachel, before lifting her hand to knock.

 **RACHEL:** She checks on her dinner one more time before Quinn arrives, removing the cauliflower, which is simmering in butter and olive oil, from the heat. All she has left to do is melt the rest of the butter and add the shallots and sage before combining it with the cauliflower and linguine, which is already cooked and warming on the stove. It will only take her about five minutes.

Rachel is gently replacing the lid on the pot when she hears the knock, and she draws in an eager breath and practically skips through her apartment to answer. She pauses to straighten her dress, saying a silent hello to her old friends, the butterflies, before she opens the door to say hello to her beautiful girlfriend.

And oh—but Quinn takes her breath away. Every. Single. Time.

Rachel’s gaze roams helplessly over Quinn, taking in the sleeveless, yellow dress that molds every one of her perfect curves like a lover’s embrace, and her lips curve into a besotted smile.

“Hi, baby,” she greets happily, reaching for Quinn to greet her with a soft kiss. Quinn practically sighs against her lips, and Rachel grins, pulling back. “Happy day after your birthday.”

 **QUINN:** “Hi,” Quinn replies with a happy sigh, taking a moment to look at Rachel and appreciating the lacy, blue dress she’s wearing tonight. “You look beautiful,” she says, earning a pretty blush from her girlfriend, who gestures for Quinn to comes inside.

“And whatever you’re cooking smells delicious,” she continues as she steps into Rachel’s apartment and catches a whiff of the pleasant aromas emanating from the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do all this… but thank you,” Quinn says, looking intently at Rachel. “It means a lot.”

 **RACHEL:** “I like doing nice things for you,” Rachel insists, pushing her door closed before she steps into Quinn and loops her arms over her shoulders. Quinn’s hands reflexively come to rest on Rachel’s hips, and Rachel smiles up at her, sinking her fingers into Quinn’s silky hair. “It makes me happy.”

Quinn’s answering smile is so sweet, and Rachel can’t resist urging her down for another kiss—one that lingers far longer than their brief kiss hello. When they finally part again, Rachel sighs in contentment.

“And, believe it or not, I like have someone to cook for,” she says with a grin. She’d painstakingly learned how to cook (after burning more than a few meals) while she’d still been attending classes at NYADA in the hopes of saving herself some money, but now she usually just throws together something fast and easy before her shows. It’s nice to have someone to share her meals with again.

“I’m making linguine with cauliflower and brown butter, so I hope you brought your appetite,” she teases.

 **QUINN:** “I most definitely did,” she assures Rachel, her content smile transforming into a playful smirk as she lets her gaze roam over her girlfriend’s face. “But I’ll make sure to leave room for dessert,” Quinn promises with a low husk before leaning down and stealing another kiss from those too-tempting lips.

Rachel’s fingers lightly scratch against her scalp, sending a pleasant shudder down Quinn’s spine. Her stomach chooses that moment to rumble, causing Rachel to giggle adorably against her mouth, and Quinn reluctantly pulls away, offering Rachel a sheepish smile.

 **RACHEL:** The adorable growl of Quinn’s stomach keeps Rachel from suggesting that they start with dessert, and she grins. “I definitely have something sweet for you later,” she promises, brushing the pad of her thumb across Quinn’s lower lip. Quinn’s smile goes from sheepish to sexy in the blink of an eye.

“But first,” Rachel drawls, reluctantly extracting herself from Quinn’s arms, “I’m going to feed you.”

She catches Quinn’s hand as she steps back, silently urging her to follow with the intention of getting her settled in at the table. “I just have a few finishing touches to put on dinner. It will only take a few minutes, but I can pour you a glass of wine while you wait. Or water, if you’d prefer. Whatever you’d like. My fridge is your fridge.

 **QUINN:** She likes this—how Rachel has opened her home to Quinn and made it feel like one of the safest and sweetest of places in her life. She tries not to think too far ahead in the future since they’ve really only just begun their relationship, but sometimes she can’t help but fantasize about a day where Rachel’s refrigerator is actually Quinn’s as well.

Quinn presses her lips together thoughtfully for a moment as she decides what to drink. "Hmm, I think I’ll have a glass of wine.”

 **RACHEL:** “Wine, it is,” Rachel says, leading Quinn over to the table. “It’s Chardonnay, if that matters. It’s supposed to pair well with the cauliflower, butter, and olive oil in the recipe.” She’s not exactly a wine connoisseur, but Stephanie had recommended it, so Rachel is trusting her on the matter.

“You can have a seat while I pour you a glass,” she suggests, resting her hand on the back of the chair and ready to pull it out and hold it for Quinn while she sits. “Unless you’d rather watch me putter around the kitchen,” she jokes—but now having said it, Rachel can’t help thinking how wonderfully domestic that would be, and she suddenly feels warm all over.

 **QUINN:** The idea of Rachel pouring her a glass of wine while Quinn waits at the table has Quinn’s mind suddenly and unpleasantly harkening back to her formative years, when her mother would do exactly that for her father.

“I’d rather help,” Quinn replies a little too sharply, before regathering herself and softening. “I mean, if you need help. Otherwise, I’m happy to wait in the kitchen with you.”

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t miss the momentary sharpness in Quinn’s tone. Rachel has been trying to stay in tune with Quinn’s moods and learn her tells as much as she can, but the odd moment is here and gone in the space of three words, so Rachel chooses to let it go. She wants to make tonight special for Quinn, and stirring up her demons with undue cause wouldn’t really the best start to their evening together.

“I certainly won’t mind having you close to me while I putter.” She reaches for Quinn’s hand again, happy when Quinn clasps on to it with a grateful smile. “Right this way, my lady,” she prompts, pulling a giggle from Quinn as Rachel leads her the few short steps into the kitchen.

 **QUINN:** The momentary darkness is lifted as quickly as it came, replaced by the warmth of Rachel’s touch and her sweetness. Quinn happily follows Rachel into the kitchen, reluctantly releasing her girlfriend’s hand so she can pour Quinn a glass of wine.

“Thank you,” she says as Rachel hands it to her, which earns Quinn a pleased ‘you’re welcome,’ before her girlfriend turns her attention toward the stove.

Quinn takes a sip of Chardonnay as she watches Rachel put the finishing touches on their dinner, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. It’s been awhile since she’s had a drink—the last time being New Year’s Eve, and even then, it was only a small glass of champagne. Coupled with the fact that Quinn hasn’t eaten since lunch, she supposes the little buzz that comes isn’t surprising.

But it feels good, especially combined with the natural buzz that always seems present when she interacts with Rachel.

 **RACHEL:** She’d cooked the linguine noodles before Quinn had arrived, straining the water and keeping them warm under a lid. It doesn’t take very long for her to melt the rest of the butter and stir in the sage and shallot before adding the pasta and cauliflower. She finishes the mixture off with some parmesan while Quinn watches her with an impressed smile—glass of wine in her hand.

“I have a spinach salad in the refrigerator to have with the pasta,” Rachel tells her. “I also have some bacon you can add to yours,” she says, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “And you have your choice of warm bacon dressing or poppy seed.”

She has a feeling she knows what Quinn will choose.

 **QUINN:** Her mouth practically waters at the mention of bacon, but there’s also a spark of affection from Rachel having gone the extra mile to make dinner even more to Quinn’s liking—in spite of her girlfriend’s obvious aversion to all things meat. The crinkling of her nose is absolutely adorable.

“You’re the best,” Quinn replies with a content smile before taking another sip of wine, watching Rachel’s mouth curve up into a shy smile over the rim of her glass. “I’ll have the bacon dressing,” she confirms after lowering her glass and placing it on the counter. “Do you want me to take the salad out of the fridge and bring it to the table?”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s compliment makes Rachel feel giddy. She’s so glad Quinn seems to approve of her meal, and she hopes that approval will continue right through the actual tasting of it.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Rachel answers gratefully. “There’s a small plate of bacon on the shelf next to it. You can grab that too and add as much as you like to your salad. The dishes are already on the table.”

Quinn dutifully opens the fridge and grabs the salad and the plate of bacon while Rachel puts the linguine and cauliflower on simmer for the moment. “I’ll heat up the dressing for you,” she announces, slipping past Quinn with a smile to take her turn in the refrigerator where she pulls out the bacon dressing for Quinn and poppy seed for herself.

She loves how domestic it all feels.

 **QUINN:** “Comfortable” is the only word that comes to mind as Rachel seamlessly works her away around Quinn in the kitchen.

This is good, she decides as she places the bowl of spinach salad on the table. The single candle as their centerpiece isn’t lost on Quinn. She notices all the romantic touches Rachel has put on tonight’s dinner, and it practically makes Quinn’s heart melt.

 **RACHEL:** She pours herself a glass of wine while the bacon dressing heats in the microwave. When the timer goes off, Rachel pulls out the container and quickly tests the temperature. Satisfied that it’s sufficiently warm but not too hot, she transfers it into a more attractive, not microwave-friendly container.

She carries her wine and the dressing to the table, setting her glass down across from where Quinn is peppering the portion of salad she’s scooped onto her plate with the crumbled bacon bits, and Rachel grins indulgently. “Your dressing, my dear,” she offers, placing the container next to Quinn.

“Would you prefer to eat the salad first? Or would you rather have it with the main course?” she asks. She personally prefers it as an appetizer, but she knows some people like it better as a side dish. Tonight, she’ll defer to Quinn.

 **QUINN:** “I’d prefer to have the salad first,” she replies as she looks up at Rachel, offering her a soft smile, which her girlfriend returns, seemingly pleased with Quinn’s decision.

She takes another sip of her wine as Rachel scoops out some salad for herself, and Quinn allows her eyes to roam as she does. Rachel really does look beautiful tonight, and the soft light from the candle seems to accentuate her beauty even more. And that dress looks absolutely wonderful on her—although Quinn certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it come off.

Quinn places her glass back down and unconsciously licks her lips as Rachel finally takes a seat across from Quinn. Undressing Rachel will (hopefully) come later. First things first though—finally getting to eat this delicious food that her girlfriend made for her.

 **RACHEL:** Pleased that Quinn’s preferences are in line with her own, Rachel settles down across from her beautiful girlfriend to enjoy dinner. Quinn’s gaze feels like a caress on her skin, and Rachel’s cheeks heat under the pleasant scrutiny. It’s a far cry from the way those hazel eyes used to make her feel when they were kids, but she’s so very glad they’re getting the chance to rediscover one another now that they’re older and fully aware of their own desires.

Lifting her wine glass, Rachel holds it in the air between them. “Here’s to us.”

 **QUINN:** It’s strange how little things—certain words or phrases—can trigger an intense emotional response in her, seemingly out of nowhere.

Of course, Quinn knows it’s not really out of nowhere. Her demons are always lurking under the surface, and sometimes the smallest thing can seem to awaken them.

But Rachel’s toast has Quinn’s mind flashing back to senior year of high school. Regionals. Quinn almost finding the courage to tell Rachel the truth of her own feelings, but Rachel had been singing “Here’s to Us” to Finn… and only Finn.

And if he was still alive, Quinn wouldn’t be here right now, would she? It should be Finn that Rachel is sharing a meal with and making this toast to.

Quinn mentally shakes her head, trying to push the unpleasant memory and guilty feeling away as she raises her own glass.

“To us,” she says, hoping she appears more confident than she feels.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s smile is noticeably tight around the edges as she echoes the toast, touching her glass against Rachel’s with a musical clink. Rachel’s own smile slips a little, but she momentarily bites back the urge to ask Quinn if something is wrong, instead lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip as she continues to study her girlfriend over the rim.

It occurs to her that the wine was possibly not the best idea. Quinn did claim that she can have a drink now and then, but she has to be careful. Rachel hopes that Quinn isn’t pushing any limitations in order to please her.

Setting her glass down carefully, Rachel runs her tongue over her lips. “So…how was your day?” she asks neutrally, opting to feel her way around Quinn’s mood in general.

Maybe she’s only imagining things. Or maybe Quinn merely had a bad day at work. Rachel has put so much thought into making tonight perfect—she hates the thought that she’s somehow unknowingly said or done something to upset Quinn.

 **QUINN:** She sets her (now-empty) glass down as well and considers Rachel’s question. Quinn didn’t mean to drink that so quickly, and doing so on an a still empty stomach has her feeling the effects more than usual.

And she kind of wants another glass, thinking it might help keep her in a better mood. Why do her thoughts have to take bad turns at the worst times anyway?

“Long,” Quinn replies after a beat, trying to focus on the present and the fact that Rachel wants her here, despite the voices in the back of her mind that say otherwise. “But most Mondays are, because waiting all day to see you seems to make the day drag on.” She bites her lower lip for a moment before asking, “How was yours?”

 **RACHEL:** Despite her lingering concern, Quinn’s words send a little rush of pleasure through Rachel. She feels the same way about Mondays now—they’re her very favorite day of the week, but the mornings and early afternoons seem to drag on forever, and she finds herself counting down every minute until she can see Quinn again. Sometimes she feels like she’s wishing her life away, but she’s hopeful that someday soon, they’ll have far more than just Mondays to spend together.

“Equally long,” Rachel answers with a grin, “and filled with cleaning the apartment and grocery shopping.” And possibly a very detailed beauty regime that may or may not have involved trying on six different dresses before settling on the one she’s wearing—but she doesn’t share that with Quinn. “My day has most definitely improved in the last forty minutes or so.”

A shy smile graces Quinn’s lips, and Rachel feels herself relax at the sight. Surely Quinn wouldn’t be looking at her that way if she was truly upset about something.

“Can I get you more wine?” she asks, noticing Quinn’s empty glass. “Or some water?” she adds, thinking that might be the safer choice.

 **QUINN:** There’s a small sense of relief that comes from knowing Rachel’s day has gotten better since Quinn arrived, and she tries to grab on to that thought—to focus on the positive rather than the negative thoughts that loom in her mind.

“Can I have both?” Quinn asks in response to Rachel’s question. Wine will help keep her relaxed, she decides, but water sounds good too.

 **RACHEL:** “Absolutely,” Rachel answers with a smile. “I’ll only be a minute,” she promises as she stands.

Lifting Quinn’s wine glass from the table, Rachel hurries back into the kitchen and carefully refills it—maybe a little less full than the first glass—before she grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Then she grabs another, deciding to join Quinn in having both. Rachel pulls down two glasses from the cabinet and sets them both on the counter next to the wine glass while she gets some ice from the freezer, adding it to the glasses before opening the water bottles and pouring them over the ice.

She picks up the wine glass and one of the water glasses, shaking her head at having created the need for two trips, and delivers the drinks to Quinn. “Here you go,” she says, setting them down on the table. “I’ll be right back,” Rachel promises again, noticing the confused wrinkle in Quinn’s brow right before she turns around to retrace her steps.

Returning with her own water in hand, she sinks back down into her chair with a smile and watches Quinn return it. “Shall we eat?”

 **QUINN:** “Definitely,” she agrees with a soft nod before picking up her fork and shifting her attention to the salad, which she had taken the liberty of drizzling the bacon dressing on while Rachel had been in the kitchen.

Quinn closes her eyes and lets out a soft hum of pleasure as she chews. As much as Quinn genuinely does like spinach, the bacon makes it so much better—the saltiness of it is so satisfying. “This is delicious, Rachel,” she declares after swallowing her first bite, looking across the table to find Rachel watching her with a pleased smile.

 **RACHEL:** She gets far more pleasure than she should just from watching Quinn savor her food, but everything about her expression is borderline pornographic, from her closed eyes to the motion of her sensual mouth to the sexy moan of appreciation. It happens every time Quinn truly enjoys what she’s eating, and it makes Rachel wonder what Quinn’s reactions might be when she’s enjoying something other than food—something fairly specific.

Shaking herself out of those decadent thoughts, Rachel focuses on the food and the company. There will be time to consider dessert later. “I’m glad you like it,” she says, letting a little bit of pride over her culinary skills seep into her words as she lifts her own fork. “But it’s only the appetizer,” she teases with a grin before she slides a bite of the salad into her mouth, taking her time to chew it thoroughly as Quinn watches her.

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t know what she enjoys more—teasing Rachel or Rachel’s teasing. Although, if Quinn were honest, Rachel’s words and flirtatious demeanor aren’t affecting her as much as they normally would.

Quinn wants to chalk it up to the fact that she’s hungry for actual food, but, truthfully, she can’t shake the feelings of guilt and shame that are still trying to cling to her. It’s frustrating, but Quinn hopes that they’ll subside soon.

“I can’t wait to taste what else you have in store for me,” Quinn replies with a playful smile of her own, reminding herself that the more she focuses on the good things about tonight, the less room there is for the thoughts and emotions that want to interfere.

 **RACHEL:** So many possibilities race through Rachel’s head—things she’d like Quinn to taste that have nothing to do with food. Really, one of these days, with the way they end up flirting over their meals, they’re probably going to forgo the food altogether and have each other for dinner instead.

Rachel really can’t wait for that day.

“I think you’ll approve,” she promises with a secretive smile—her thoughts still lingering on their inevitable future. “I even have something sweet for dessert.” In addition to the kisses she’s hoping to offer Quinn, of course.

 **QUINN:** “I look forward to it,” she replies, feeling warmth pool in her belly at the thought of what’s to come later.

They fall into a comfortable silence, stealing glances of one another as they resume eating their salad. Each time Rachel’s eyes catch hers, Quinn takes it as an opportunity to continue trying to push away the idea that she doesn’t deserve this.

It’s only semi-successful, and Quinn finds herself reaching for her wine after nearly every bite. It’s more reflexive than anything, and Quinn’s glass is soon empty.

But that’s okay. She’s feeling better now because of it, and she’ll be able to enjoy her time with Rachel more.

 **RACHEL:** By the time they finish the salad, Quinn’s glass is empty again, and Rachel frowns thoughtfully before taking another sip of her own wine. That niggling worry that something is bothering her girlfriend returns, and even though the hostess in her feels compelled to offer Quinn another glass, she thinks Quinn might be better off if she doesn’t.

Rachel decides to try again to get Quinn talking while they enjoy the pasta, and setting down her glass again, she manages a smile. “Are you ready for the main course?”

At Quinn’s nod, Rachel stands, clearing away the empty salad plates and taking them to kitchen to deposit into the sink. Then she removes the linguine and cauliflower from the heat—ready to serve it up and continue their meal.

 **QUINN:** She sips her water as she waits for Rachel to return from the kitchen. The buzz from the wine has created a pleasant kind of fuzziness in Quinn’s mind and body, momentarily pushing out all her self-doubt. But she’d rather be enjoying this with Rachel than by herself.

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to wait long. Quinn breathes in, once again closing her eyes in appreciation as Rachel places the steaming bowl of pasta down on the table. “It looks and smells amazing,” she says, opening her eyes to meet Rachel’s gaze. She smiles, feeling a surge of affection for her girlfriend.

But Rachel’s returning smile seems a bit… off somehow. Quinn can’t put her finger on it, but it makes her stomach churn slightly. She bites her lower lip, looking away and wishing her wine glass wasn’t empty.

 **RACHEL:** Slipping back into her chair across from Quinn, Rachel’s lips curve at the compliment, and she manages to say, “I hope you think it tastes amazing too,” but she’s admittedly preoccupied with her silent attempt to figure out Quinn’s behavior. On the surface, she seems okay—doing and saying the right things—but some of her smiles aren’t reaching her eyes, and until tonight, Rachel hasn’t really seen her drink more than a few sips of alcohol.

She remembers that alcohol is a depressant and wonders if Quinn is attempting to use it that way tonight.

Rachel is trying to be supportive and conscientious regarding Quinn’s bipolar disorder, but she still feels like she’s floundering around in the darkness, looking for some neon sign to direct her when there’s nothing but a flick of a match that quickly burns out and leaves her blind all over again. It’s so incredibly frustrating not knowing if she’s helping or hindering Quinn at any given moment—not knowing how much to push Quinn to open up to her and when to back off. She’s never been particularly good at backing off.

Still, she did put a lot of effort into preparing the food, so she decides to give them both a little more time to enjoy it before she says anything.

 **QUINN:** Rachel gestures for Quinn to go ahead and serve herself first, so Quinn does, aware of Rachel’s watchful eyes on her. Normally, she likes it when her girlfriend stares at her—it usually makes Quinn feel like she’s on top of the world—but the guilt that is gnawing in her belly right now, which a part of Quinn knows isn’t even logical, leaves her feeling self-conscious under Rachel’s gaze.

She wonders (worries) what Rachel is thinking. What if she’s second-guessing things? It’s something that’s been in the back of Quinn’s mind since they started dating, and sometimes those thoughts get louder and it can be hard to wrestle control of them.

Quinn chances a glance up once she finishes piling pasta on her own plate, and the smile Rachel sends her—the warmth in those brown eyes—settles Quinn a little.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn takes a generous helping of pasta, and Rachel offers her an encouraging smile before she fills her own plate. Picking up her fork, she murmurs, “Bon appétit,” and hesitates long enough to watch Quinn take her first bite before she lifts a forkful of linguine to her mouth—relieved when the gently seasoned, buttery flavor settles on her tongue, proving that her recipe turned out okay.

Quinn’s expression isn’t quite as orgasmic as it was for the salad—Rachel hopes it’s simply the absence of bacon—but she does hum quietly in approval.

“So do my kitchen skills get a gold star?” Rachel prompts a little uncertainly.

 **QUINN:** “Absolutely,” she replies with an assuring nod, savoring the flavor of buttery garlic that lingers on her tongue. “This is honestly one of the most delicious pasta dishes I’ve ever tasted. And remember that I’ve eaten many an Italian meal with Kaitlyn and her family, so… I think you’ve earned more than a gold star, Rachel.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s praise manages to cut through Rachel’s concerns, at least for the moment, and she flushes with pleasure. She really does love being able to cook (without any kitchen mishaps) for her loved ones—and Quinn is most certainly that.

“Thank you, Quinn,” she murmurs, feeling her cheeks heat. “I’m so glad you like it.”

Quinn’s genuine smile and reiteration that she does, in fact, love the pasta, eases some of Rachel’s tension for the moment—enough that she can relax a little and enjoy her own food.

They both turn their attention to their meals for a time, but with every bite Rachel takes, her thoughts move further back to Quinn. They’re about two-thirds of the way through their plates when Rachel finally gives voice to one of them.

“So, other than today being long and nearly intolerable without me,” she attempts, leading with a small bit of humor, “did anything…notable happen?” she asks, trying again to get Quinn talking in hopes of her opening up about anything that might be bothering her.

 **QUINN:** “Kind of,” she admits. “My boss… my mentor in the publishing world, told us today that she’s going to retire next year. And it… it makes me sad.”

It’s true. It’s all true. And while it does make Quinn feel uncertain about things, it’s not the main thing that has her feeling off-balance tonight.

 **RACHEL:** “I’m sorry,” Rachel murmurs sympathetically, feeling sad for Quinn but grateful to know that she wasn’t imagining that there was something bothering her girlfriend. “I know it must be difficult to think about being there without her. It isn’t exactly the same, but I’ve definitely felt the absence of Audra since she left the show last month, even though Laura is wonderful too. It’s just…different.”

Of course, it was no surprise to anyone that Audra would want to move on after devoting a full year to the role—they were honestly lucky to keep her that long. So far, the show’s popularity isn’t suffering for the change in casting. In fact, having new spin on Miranda has reinvigorated their performances, and Rachel likes to think the audiences are noticing.

But this isn’t about Rachel. It’s about Quinn.

“You’re allowed to be sad about it, Quinn. It’s natural. And you can talk to me about it. About anything that’s bothering you,” she stresses, hoping the message gets through.

 **QUINN:** “Thanks,” she replies with an appreciative smile, but there’s still an underlying feeling of unease. Quinn doesn’t want to talk about what’s really bothering her, especially not with Rachel; she would much rather forget about it.

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but I do worry about what her leaving is going to mean for our company, and for me,” she admits. “Stability is really important for me to have.”

 **RACHEL:** Nodding in understanding, Rachel wishes there was some way to ensure that Quinn will always have the stability she needs, but she knows she doesn’t have that power. All she can do is try to make sure she continues to be a source of stability and permanence in Quinn’s life for Quinn to hold on to when everything else feels like it’s falling to pieces.

“You said she’s planning to retire next year?” Rachel asks. At Quinn’s nod, she offers a reassuring smile. “Then your boss and the company have time to make a plan for the transition, although I know the not knowing can be frustrating. Have you talked to her at all about your concerns?”

 **QUINN:** “I haven’t, no,” she replies, shaking her head and realizing that Rachel is right. As much as unexpected changes can throw Quinn, she has time to get used to the idea before it happens. And talking with her boss is a good idea. “But I will. Thanks, Rach.”

 **RACHEL:** “You’re welcome,” Rachel responds automatically. “I’m sure everything will work out,” she says, smiling supportively. She hopes Quinn’s conversation with her boss will ease her mind, but until then, she’s going to do everything in her power to distract Quinn with more pleasant thoughts.

Quinn smiles gratefully before taking another bite of the pasta, and Rachel joins her, feeling far more at ease now that Quinn has told her what’s been bothering her. She really wants them both to be able to enjoy the evening and each other’s company.

 **QUINN:** As they continue to eat, Quinn tries to stay in the moment with mixed results. Once those negative thoughts and emotions creep in, it’s hard to get them to stop—even when Quinn tries using the techniques her doctor has taught her. The frustration that comes just seems to create a feedback loop of feelings of inadequacy.

“Can I have another glass of wine?” she asks Rachel after a few minutes.

 **RACHEL:** Her fork stills over her plate at Quinn’s request, and she carefully chews and swallows her last bite. It settles heavily in her stomach. Quinn has already downed two glasses, and Rachel doesn’t know how much is too much for her—in regards to her bipolar or for the lithium she’s taking.

Licking her lips, Rachel carefully lays her fork across her plate. “Um…I don’t,” she begins, stopping to consider how best to phrase this. She doesn’t want to police Quinn, but she can’t help being concerned. “Are you sure it’s okay? ’-with the medication you’re taking?” she stutters out quickly, biting into her lip as she waits for Quinn’s answer.

 **QUINN:** She presses her lips together and glances away. Rachel makes a good point, Quinn knows, but…

“It’s fine,” Quinn assures as she meets Rachel’s eyes once more.

And while lithium does somewhat increase the effects of alcohol for her, right now, Quinn doesn’t care. She just wants to feel better.

 **RACHEL:** It’s fine?

Rachel could just get up and get Quinn another glass—maybe not even fill it up halfway. There probably isn’t even that much wine left in the bottle. But she can’t shake the feeling that it really isn’t fine, and she takes a deep breath as she studies Quinn.

“O-okay,” she agrees hesitantly, nearly standing before she pauses. “It’s just…you don’t usually drink much alcohol, and I can’t help wondering if,” she trails off at Quinn’s frown before she bites the bullet and asks, “Is…is there something else bothering you?”

 **QUINN:** “No,” she lies, her stomach twisting with guilt. But really, there’s no point in getting into it with Rachel. It will ruin everything.

“I just… I want to enjoy my birthday, that’s all.”

That, at least, is the truth.

 **RACHEL:** She wants to believe Quinn. And really, it seems like a perfectly reasonable request. Why shouldn’t Quinn be able to relax and enjoy her birthday by splurging with a few glasses of wine? After all, Rachel has put so much work into making tonight perfect and romantic, and while she never had any designs to get Quinn drunk, she had purchased the wine with the thought that Quinn might enjoy a glass or two for her birthday.

Rachel is still hopeful that she might persuade Quinn to stay tonight, and if she does, can one more small glass of wine really hurt anything? They’re in a safe space.

So Rachel says, “Okay,” again—this time with a little more conviction—before she stands up and takes Quinn’s empty wine glass into the kitchen along with her own mostly empty one, having decided that she’ll join Quinn in another glass. She only fills both of them just under half full, noting that there really isn’t very much left in the bottle now, and she tells herself that it’s okay.

Quinn is here with her, and it’s her birthday dinner, and she’s probably still a little upset about her boss, but everything is fine. Tonight might not be as perfect as Rachel had initially planned, but it can still be perfectly wonderful because they’re together.

 **QUINN:** She takes a few sips of water while she waits for Rachel to return from the kitchen, opting hold off on eating anything more until then.

Quinn turns her attention to the music softly playing in the background, and a small smile graces her lips when she recognizes the strains of The Marvelettes’ “Please Mr. Postman.”

Rachel really has put so much into making tonight special for Quinn, in all ways both big and small, and Quinn tries to keep holding on to that fact.

Moments later, Rachel returns with their refilled glasses, and Quinn murmurs a 'thank you’ as her girlfriend places her glass on the table.

 **RACHEL:** She smiles at Quinn, hoping it isn’t too tight around the edges, as she sinks back into her seat. They resume their dinner with a little smalltalk peppered in. Rachel asks about the book Quinn is currently working on, glad to listen as Quinn seems to relax into a neutral topic of conversation. She doesn’t fail to notice that Quinn seems to drink a little less of the wine as she talks about her work.

Before long, they’ve polished off the pasta, and Quinn has polished off another glass of wine.

“Would you like dessert now?” Rachel asks. “Maybe some coffee? Or would you rather wait a bit?”

 **QUINN:** “Could we wait a bit? I’m actually pretty full,” Quinn replies before biting her lower lip.

She’s actually feeling a touch more relaxed—she has a pleasant buzz from the wine, talking about the Arthur Miller biography has her mind fixated on a less stressful topic, and she’s enjoyed every bite of her food.

“This has honestly been one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” Quinn continues, lips curving up into an appreciative smile as she gazes across the table at her girlfriend. “Thank you for doing all this.”

 **RACHEL:** “I’ve told you, I like doing nice things for you, Quinn,” Rachel reminds her, beaming at Quinn’s compliment. “And I’m happy you enjoyed the food so much. I was a little worried you might not like it,” she admits. Not everyone is a fan of cauliflower and butter-based sauces.

“Did you want me to put on a pot of coffee for later? Or I could heat the water for some tea if you’d prefer,” she offers as she sets her silverware across her empty plate in preparation for clearing off the table.

 **QUINN:** She wonders if she’ll ever fully believe how much Rachel likes making her happy. It’s not that she thinks her girlfriend is being untruthful; it’s just difficult for Quinn to wrap her head around sometimes.

“No thanks,” she replies, mimicking Rachel’s actions with her own place setting before coming to stand. “I might like to have some tea later though,” Quinn continues, picking up her plate and empty glass. “But if you want coffee or tea now, you should have some. Don’t wait for me.”

 **RACHEL:** “I can wait,” Rachel dismisses, more concerned with Quinn’s preferences right now in her attempt to be the perfect hostess. It won’t take long to brew them both some tea later.

“And you don’t have to bother with the dishes,” she chastises, standing beside Quinn. “You’re my guest, and it’s your birthday. It will only take me a moment to clean off the table,” she promises, lifting her own dirty plate. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the living room?”

 **QUINN:** “Okay,” she agrees softly, reluctantly setting her dishes back down on the table.

“Actually, I’m going to use the bathroom first,” Quinn says, nature’s call growing stronger now with all the water and wine she’s consumed. Plus, she’d like to freshen up a little before reconvening with Rachel in the living room. After eating bacon, Quinn wants to make sure that taste is out of her mouth for her girlfriend’s sake.

Just the thought of what they’ll likely be getting up to has Quinn wanting to feel Rachel’s lips against hers, and she can’t stop from leaning down and stealing a quick kiss. “See you in a few,” Quinn promises.

 **RACHEL:** The soft shadow of Quinn’s kiss is still lingering on Rachel’s lips as she watches her walk away, and Rachel smiles to herself as she gathers up the plates, feeling so much better about the evening to come. Quinn seems more relaxed now than when she first got here, and, once again, Rachel chalks it all up to a bad day at work.

She definitely has some ideas on how she can help Quinn relax even more.

Rachel hums along with the music filtering in from the living room as she hurries into the kitchen and quickly rinses the plates, leaving them to sit in the sink until later. She makes another trip back to the table to extinguish the candle and pick up the napkins and pasta bowl, making quick work of dumping the remaining pasta into a container and storing it in the fridge. A few hurried wipes with a rag to the table and then the kitchen counter is enough for now—everything else can wait. After all, she has a girlfriend to entertain.

 **QUINN:** She takes care of her business, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of her bladder finding relief. Quinn readjusts her dress before flushing the toilet and heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

As she rinses her hands under the running water, Quinn’s gaze automatically falls to the toothbrush holder on the wall and the two brushes that sit side-by-side—Rachel’s pink and Quinn’s green. It’s been that way since last week when Quinn stayed over Rachel’s for the first time. It’s a small thing, she knows, but Quinn likes this little bit of cohabitation.

She then grabs her toothbrush and gets to brushing her teeth. She looks in the mirror as she does and notices that her skin is a little flush—most likely from the alcohol, she realizes.

Quinn is definitely in the territory of being heavily buzzed and is very close to the edge of actually being drunk. But that’s alright. She feels good and the negative thoughts from earlier are currently subdued.

 **RACHEL:** After washing her hands in the kitchen sink, Rachel breezes into the living room to—not find Quinn. Since she’s pretty sure that Quinn didn’t make a break for it, she figures her girlfriend must still be in the bathroom, so Rachel takes the opportunity to grab for her phone, quickly turning on the self-facing camera and using it to check her appearance.

She’s in the middle of fluffing her hair when she hears the bathroom door open and the click of Quinn’s heels on her hardwood floor, and Rachel hastily tosses her phone onto the chair before spinning around with a smile to greet Quinn as she glides into the living room.

“Hey, baby,” Rachel breathes, closing the distance between them and slipping her arms around Quinn’s shoulders. “I missed you,” she teases, brushing her lips over Quinn’s and tasting the minty flavor of her own toothpaste. She smiles into the kiss, loving that her girlfriend was thoughtful enough to freshen up for her.

 **QUINN:** She responds instantly to Rachel’s embrace and lips against hers—her own hands find purchase on slim hips as Quinn deepens their kiss, and the fire of her desire is quickly ignited.

Although, Quinn isn’t in a rush to sate it. She wants to savor this—savor Rachel and every taste and touch—and despite the fuzziness from the wine (or maybe because of it), Quinn feels more connected to Rachel than ever. Then again, it’s hard to think about anything other than her girlfriend when she’s pressed up against Quinn, scratching her nails against Quinn’s scalp, and kissing her like this.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn turns the flirty kiss that Rachel had intended into something much different, but Rachel doesn’t object in the least. Instead, she sinks her fingers into Quinn’s hair and falls into her, forgetting all about the dessert in the kitchen and thinking they should just have each other instead. But they have time, so Rachel eases back with a sigh—though it’s hard to resist diving back in when she sees the desire shining in Quinn’s eyes.

Rachel runs her tongue across her lips, savoring the lingering taste of wine and toothpaste and Quinn. The opening strains of Smokey Robinson singing “Ooh Baby Baby” filter into her awareness, and Rachel smiles up at Quinn.

“Dance with me?”

 **QUINN:** “I’d love to,” she agrees with a smile of her own, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist to keep her girlfriend close as they start to sway in time to the music. Quinn doesn’t want Rachel to drift too far away—she’d much rather keep her wrapped in her arms—so their dancing isn’t anything complicated. But it’s nice, just being close like this.

And, oh, she really would like to kiss Rachel again, but… there’s time for that later. Quinn’s never actually danced intimately with Rachel before, and now that it’s happening, she wants to enjoy this.

Rachel rests her chin on Quinn’s shoulder then, and Quinn lets her eyes drift shut as she breathes in the familiar scent of Rachel’s shampoo and perfume.

 **RACHEL:** This is nice. It’s been so long since Rachel has danced with someone this way—the kind of dancing that’s barely more than two bodies pressed close together and swaying in time with the music—and Quinn is the perfect height for Rachel to rest her chin against her shoulder and bask in the moment.

Smokey is singing about doing his girl wrong and losing her, and Rachel frowns mildly, thinking that this probably wasn’t the perfect song for her first dance with Quinn, but she’d really wanted to dance with her, and the music had been slow and smooth and perfect for melting into Quinn. The heat of Quinn’s skin and the way her curves feel against Rachel’s body more than makes up for the less than satisfactory lyrics.

“We should definitely do this more often,” Rachel murmurs contentedly, already wondering where she might be able to take Quinn dancing on their next date. “I’ve always loved the way you move,” she confesses, remembering how often her gaze would follow Quinn when she’d perform back in school.

 **QUINN:** “Is that so?” she asks, feeling warm all over from Rachel’s words as her lips curve up.

Rachel hums in confirmation, and Quinn’s mind wanders to all the different ways they could move together. But there’s also the undeniable thrill that comes from knowing that Rachel enjoys watching Quinn perform.

Granted, right now Quinn’s thoughts are a little more fixated on the more intimate ways she can move with Rachel. “The feeling is very mutual,” she murmurs, letting her hands slide up the curve of Rachel’s back as they continue to gently rock.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s wandering fingers coupled with her husky words send a shiver of pleasure racing down Rachel’s spine—not-coincidentally right underneath Quinn’s touch. Rachel curves her own fingers around the nape of Quinn’s neck as she lifts her chin from Quinn’s shoulder and turns her face, nuzzling her nose against Quinn’s cheek and inhaling her scent.

“You haven’t even seen half of them yet,” she whispers playfully, looking forward to showing Quinn all the new moves that she’s picked up over the years and eager to learn some of Quinn’s intimately.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s words send a rush of anticipation through Quinn. Combined with the way that Rachel’s touching her and moving against and with her, Quinn couldn’t stop her body from responding to her girlfriend even if she wanted to.

“I can’t wait,” Quinn husks before turning her head slightly and pressing a kiss just under Rachel’s jaw.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s eyes flutter closed at the feel of Quinn’s lip against her jaw, and a little moan slips out as her head tilts back, allowing Quinn to explore the expanse of her neck. Behind her eyelids, a fantasy takes shape of Quinn dancing her right into her bedroom, slowly peeling her dress away, and exploring every inch of her body.

Rachel’s hand slides up to tangle into Quinn’s soft hair. “I…I can show you if you like,” she manages breathlessly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 **QUINN:** Quinn’s breath hitches, her mouth momentarily pausing in its exploration of Rachel’s neck as a pleasant shudder races down her spine.

Even though Quinn has wanted Rachel—has imagined and fantasized being with her more times than she can count—she was still afraid to actually go all the way with her. Because Quinn knows, there’s no going back for her once that line is crossed.

But now all trepidation is gone. “I’m ready,” she murmurs, brushing her lips along the corner of Rachel’s jaw.

 **RACHEL:** Her arousal has been growing steadily from the moment they started dancing—with all of Quinn’s curves brushing against all of hers in the most perfect ways imaginable—but now, Quinn’s simple declaration has Rachel’s breath catching and her body shifting into overdrive because Quinn is finally ready to take the next step in their relationship.

Pulling back, Rachel searches Quinn’s heated gaze for any sign of doubt. She hasn’t forgotten that Quinn has been drinking, and she would never want to take advantage of her lowered inhibitions. “Are you sure?” she asks carefully. “I would never want you to regret anything in the morning.”

 **QUINN:** “I’m sure,” she answers with a soft nod as her eyes roam over Rachel’s face as her fingers lightly grab on to the lacy fabric of her girlfriend’s dress.

Quinn lightly licks her lips before admitting, “I was hoping we’d take that step tonight the second I saw you in this dress.”

 **RACHEL:** The last of Rachel’s concerns slip away, and her lips curve into a coy smile—happy that her final dress choice had been a winner but even happier that Quinn wants this as much as she does. They’ve been circling this moments for months, and now that they’re on the cusp of consummating their long suppressed desires, Rachel wants to savor every second of teasing that will lead them to the pleasing.

“Oh, this old thing?” she teases, scratching gently at the nape of Quinn’s neck. “I just threw it on.”

After trying on and discarding the other six.

“I’ll be happy to let you take it off of me,” she purrs—her hooded gaze falling to Quinn’s oh-so-tempting mouth.

 **QUINN:** She can’t stop the soft moan that slips past her lips—Rachel’s words and touch stoking the fire that burns low in Quinn’s belly.

“Happy birthday to me,” Quinn replies with a sensual smile before leaning down and capturing Rachel’s lips with her own.

 **RACHEL:** She melts into the kiss, parting her lips and meeting Quinn’s talented tongue. Desire rises up in her like a tidal wave, but at its base is a swell of emotion so powerful that Rachel knows she’ll happily drown in it forever.

She lightly scratches her nails down Quinn’s back while Quinn’s hands travel south until they mold to Rachel’s ass. Rachel moans into the kiss, feeling her arousal spike even higher. This could escalate so much more quickly than Rachel had intended.

Forcing herself to break the kiss, Rachel gasps in a breath. “Happy birthday to you,” she echoes huskily, mindlessly running her hands over Quinn’s back. “I baked you a cake,” she murmurs, a little distracted by the fire racing through her veins. “I don’t suppose you want your dessert now.”

 **QUINN:** She lets out a breath and her eyes flutter open as Rachel pulls back, momentarily wondering why they’re not still kissing. But her lips curve back up into a smile as soon as she registers Rachel’s words.

“Oh, I definitely want my dessert now,” she replies, her need for Rachel climbing by the second. “I’d just rather skip the cake part and have you instead.”

 **RACHEL:** Any thought of slowing this down flies out the window with Quinn’s sexy smile and husky words, and Rachel’s eyelids flutter as an embarrassing moan escapes her lips. She’s never wanted anything or anyone as much as she wants Quinn Fabray right now.

“Then have me,” she urges wantonly, guiding Quinn’s lips back to hers.

 **QUINN:** Those three words combined with Rachel’s hungry kiss have Quinn’s knees practically buckling as a surge of pleasure rushes through her.

Quinn doesn’t have to be told twice.

She opens her mouth, brushing her tongue against Rachel’s, as her hands squeeze the supple flesh beneath them, causing Rachel’s fingers to grip tighter in blonde hair, making Quinn want her all the more.

 **RACHEL:** There’s fire everywhere Quinn touches, burning through the frustrating layer of fabric that separates her skin from Quinn’s skilled hands, and Rachel grows increasingly breathless from Quinn’s kisses. Still, she needs more. She needs to be closer. She needs to feel every inch of Quinn against every inch of her with nothing between them but the heat of their bodies.

For a heartbeat, Rachel entertains the notion of stripping their dresses away right here and now and dragging them both to the floor, but there’s a big, cozy bed just down the hallway, and Rachel is suddenly desperate to see Quinn spread out naked on her sheets.

It takes a nearly Herculean effort to tear her mouth away from Quinn, and when she does, she’s met with a growl of frustration as Quinn attempts to lure her back with darkened eyes and persistent lips.

“Bedroom,” Rachel manages to gasp out, and it’s enough to have Quinn nodding her agreement with an almost feral grin and loosening her possessive hold on Rachel’s body.

Rachel drags in a breath, tempering her arousal long enough to grasp Quinn’s hand and lead her to the bedroom.

 **QUINN:** Her body is thrumming with desire and the anticipation of finally getting to see and taste and touch Rachel without the barriers of clothing. And knowing that Rachel wants this just as much as Quinn does stokes the fire in her belly even more.

Fortunately, it’s a short walk to Rachel’s bedroom, and Quinn unconsciously licks her lips as Rachel leads her through the threshold—she can’t wait to get on that bed and get Rachel out of that dress.

But as they near the bed, there’s a moment of hesitation on Rachel’s part. Quinn barely catches it, but then she notices that the lamp on Rachel’s nightstand is on and that her girlfriend is reaching for it.

“Leave it on,” Quinn pleads, grabbing hold of Rachel’s wrist to stop her and causing darkened brown eyes to gaze at her. “I want to see you.”

 **RACHEL:** She’s not some shy virgin by any means—not anymore—but Rachel can’t deny that she still feels a little moment of anxiety at Quinn’s request. It’s not specific to Quinn, really. She’s just always been more comfortable letting go of all her inhibitions in the dark, especially with a new lover.

But this is Quinn—gorgeous, sexy, could-have-been-a-Greek-goddess Quinn—and even with the little tickle of insecurity that creeps in beneath her desire, Rachel wants to see all of Quinn more than she wants to hide any of her own imperfections in the shadows. So she lets her hand fall away from the lamp and offers Quinn a shy smile.

“Whatever you want,” she agrees softly, lifting a hand to cup Quinn’s cheek. “As long as I get to see you too.”

 **QUINN:** Her eyelids momentarily flutter closed as Quinn soaks in the feeling of soft fingers against her face and the gentle (but certainly not lacking in desire) request from her girlfriend.

Hazel eyes open then as she reaches up to touch the hand against her cheek while her other hand wraps around Rachel’s body, pulling her that much closer. “You will,” Quinn promises. “But not before I have my way with you.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s sultry promise sends a fresh wave of arousal crashing over Rachel, and a guttural moan tears through her as her eyes fall closed. “Yes, please,” she begs just before she practically drags Quinn’s lips back to her hers, kissing her greedily.

Quinn responds instantly, ravishing Rachel’s mouth and effortlessly taking control of the kiss. Rachel is more than willing to give it to her—to give Quinn whatever she wants tonight—because what she wants and what Rachel wants are two sides of the same sensual coin. So when Quinn drops her hand to Rachel’s hip and guides her back toward the bed, she doesn’t resist, and soon enough her legs are hitting the edge of the mattress.

 **QUINN:** She can hardly believe how responsive Rachel is to her touch, but Quinn is so beyond the point of want that her mind can barely process it on any sort of concrete, sensible level.

Not that it matters.

Rachel’s back hits the mattress, and Quinn’s nostrils flare with desire. Her hands have no idea where to go—all she knows is that she wants them everywhere.

Hazel eyes bore into dark brown as Quinn drops her forehead against Rachel’s as her hands hook into the underside of that beautiful, blue dress.

 **RACHEL:** She loses her breath at the emotion swirling behind Quinn’s eyes—a captivating mixture of desire and adoration directed solely at Rachel. She’d never dared to dream that Quinn could look at her this way or want her this much, but it’s all right there in a heated gaze and determined hands on her body. The effect it has on Rachel is akin to tossing gasoline onto a fire.

Quinn’s fingers graze against Rachel’s sensitized skin as she slowly drags the material of her dress up over her legs, and Rachel arches against her, rocking her hips as she tugs Quinn back down into a scorching kiss.

 **QUINN:** A soft moan escapes into Rachel’s mouth as Quinn’s hands run along the outside of bare thighs. She decides actually touching Rachel’s bare legs is even better than looking at them, and Quinn can’t wait to finally get between them.

But first she needs to finish getting Rachel undressed.

Her hands trail up toward Rachel’s hips, fingers brushing the outside of lace panties, and grab the bottom of Rachel’s dress once more, pushing it further up.

Rachel lifts her hips, and Quinn feels warm anticipation flood her belly as her heart picks up speed.

 **RACHEL:** Biting into her lip, Rachel’s gaze is locked on Quinn’s hungry expression as she eases the dress over her hips. The material is loose enough that there’s no resistance to removing it, and Rachel lets her arms fall limply to the mattress above her head, moaning when Quinn pauses to dip her head down and steal another open-mouthed kiss.

Rachel shivers with barely suppressed excitement as Quinn continues to work her dress higher, revealing more and more of her body, and then Quinn is breaking their kiss to urge the fabric over Rachel’s head, leaving her in nothing but a lacy blue bra and panties—happily at Quinn’s mercy.

 **QUINN:** She draws back as she finishes removing Rachel’s dress, tossing it off to the side, before straddling her waist and savoring the feeling of the inside of her thighs against her girlfriend’s heated skin.

Hazel eyes darken as she takes in the sight of Rachel laying beneath in nothing but her underwear, feeling a tug of desire low in her belly. This is so beyond Quinn’s wildest dreams. Oh, sure, she’d seen Rachel in skimpy outfits back in high school (much to Quinn’s frustration), but that was ten years ago. And so much has changed since then.

“You’re so beautiful,” Quinn breathes out, finally lowering her hands, free to touch Rachel without anything getting in the way.

Well, almost. As nice as Rachel’s bra is, Quinn would rather see it off. She slides her hands up Rachel’s sides, earning Quinn a soft moan as Rachel’s back arches slightly off the bed.

Quinn takes that opportunity to slip her hands beneath Rachel’s upper back, deftly undoing her bra, which Rachel is all too eager to help her remove.

But as it comes away, freeing Rachel’s breasts, Quinn catches a glimpse of small, black lettering on Rachel’s left side. Her curiosity momentarily overrides her desire as Quinn brushes her fingers over it and leans in closer to see what it says.

'Hold on to that feeling.’

Quinn’s brow furrows as an odd feeling creeps over her. There’s something familiar about the line, and it must mean something important if Rachel tattooed it on her body, but Quinn’s having trouble immediately placing it.

 **RACHEL:** It takes a moment for Rachel to become fully aware of exactly where Quinn’s attention has wandered. She’d been far too distracted by the erotic vision of Quinn straddling her in all her disheveled, aroused glory—not to mention the unbridled joy she’d felt at hearing Quinn tell her that she’s beautiful. Even after three months, Quinn’s earnest admiration still gives Rachel butterflies.

But right now, Quinn’s brows are furrowed as she gazes at one particular spot on Rachel’s skin, running her fingers over the phrase that’s been tattooed there for the better part of the last seven years. Rachel’s left hand moves to her rib self-consciously, touching the words that she knows by heart—her fingers brushing against Quinn’s as she does so—and causing Quinn’s guarded eyes to meet hers in silent question.

This isn’t the first time Rachel has had to explain the tattoo to a lover, but it’s the first time the person she’s explaining it to will truly understand what it means to her.

Rachel nervously licks her lips, never breaking eye contact with Quinn. “They’re lyrics,” she reveals softly, not bothering to tell Quinn what song they belong to—not when she can see by the clear flash of pain in hazel eyes that Quinn has remembered it all on her own. “I had it done not long after…”

Rachel doesn’t say his name—not here and definitely not now—but she doesn’t really need to. Quinn already knows.

 **QUINN:** Her heart drops into her stomach and her blood runs cold as realization slams into her, her gaze falling back to Rachel’s ribs.

Finn. This tattoo is for Finn, for the song he and Rachel first performed together. To remember him by, to hold on to him and their love.

And it hits Quinn all over again that she wouldn’t even be here right now, with Rachel laying half-naked beneath her, if not for his death—if not for Quinn wishing him out of the picture.

The guilt comes crashing back, consuming Quinn as her hands start to shake and her breathing becomes uneven.

 **RACHEL:** Rachel’s heart begins to race—desire instantly smothered with fear as she watches the color drain from Quinn’s face and her body begin to tremble while she visibly struggles to drag air into her lungs. It’s like a switch was suddenly flipped, and Rachel is left completely in the dark, but she recognizes the beginnings of a panic attack from the little glimpses she’s witnessed with Quinn in the past months. But Quinn has always been able to pull herself out of them before they escalated.

Rachel awkwardly pushes herself up into a sitting position—not the easiest task with the position they’re in—and she reaches out to grasp Quinn’s hands, hoping to bring her back from wherever her mind has taken her.

“Quinn, baby, it’s okay,” she promises worriedly. “You’re okay. You need to calm down and breathe. I’m right here. Come back to me,” she pleads.

 **QUINN:** She’s slipping, and Rachel’s voice and touch is both an anchor and a painful reminder of Quinn’s reality: it’s not okay.

Tears prick hazel eyes as Quinn tries to steady her breathing with little success. She stares at Rachel’s worried gaze, and the feelings of guilt and confliction grow.

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t deserve this. None of it. She’s only here because Finn is dead.

“I… I can’t,” she manages to get out, pulling her hands away from Rachel’s and scrambling off the bed and running her hands over her face. She has to get out of here.

 **RACHEL:** The sudden absence of Quinn’s body against hers leaves Rachel feeling suddenly colder than she ever has in her life. She stares wide-eyed at her girlfriend who looks like a scared rabbit ready to bolt.

“What do you mean 'you can’t?’” Rachel asks shakily, cautiously shuffling to the edge of the bed even as she awkwardly lifts an arm to cover her bare breasts—suddenly feeling entirely too exposed.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening. How had they gone from being completely lost in one another—on the verge of consummating their mutual desire—to this? Rachel knows that Quinn still carries some misplaced guilt over Finn’s death, but she’d never thought for a moment that the simple tattoo that she’d gotten in his memory would affect Quinn this way.

“Quinn,” she practically whispers, standing up on unsteady legs. “Please talk to me.”

 **QUINN:** She shakes her head. She can’t make sense of her thoughts. All Quinn knows is that her stomach is twisted in knots, her heart is flooded with guilt, and her mind is filled with self-loathing.

What could she even say to Rachel, besides…

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispers, gazing at Rachel apologetically before turning to leave.

 **RACHEL:** Before Rachel can really process what’s happening, Quinn is out of her bedroom—heels clicking rapidly against her floor like tiny gunshots to Rachel’s heart. All she can think is that Quinn can’t leave. Not like this. Not in the state she’s in.

Shaking herself out of her stunned inaction, Rachel rushes after Quinn, barely managing to snag her wrinkled dress from the foot of the bed where Quinn had tossed it only moments ago. She doesn’t waste time putting it on again—only pressing the bunched material against her naked chest in a feeble attempt to cover herself as she runs out of her bedroom.

“Quinn! Please wait,” she begs tearfully, just barely managing to catch Quinn before she runs out of the apartment. Flinging out a desperate hand, Rachel blindly grabs for Quinn’s wrist. Quinn tugs sharply against her hold but doesn’t break it. She also doesn’t turn around, her other hand gripping the doorknob with white knuckles.

“Please don’t leave like this,” Rachel cries, stepping closer to Quinn’s rigid body. “I’m so worried about you. If…if you won’t stay, at least let me call you a taxi.”

The thought of Quinn walking out into the street like this—not knowing where she might end up—is enough to have Rachel teetering on the verge of what feels like her own panic attack.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s hand wrapped around her wrist practically burns her skin, and Quinn sucks in a breath.

But when Rachel pleads—begs—for her to stay, Quinn pauses, unable to completely run away. Rachel’s always had this way with her.

But she’s on the verge of breaking, and she can’t… she can’t do it in front of Rachel.

Just one more reason why she doesn’t deserve her, Quinn realizes.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn repeats quietly, painfully.

And she is. She is so sorry.

But she can’t even begin to put into words why.

 **RACHEL:** “It’s okay,” Rachel whispers brokenly, even though it really isn’t. None of this is okay. They’re supposed to be in her bed right now, making love, but instead they’re standing here in tears. Rachel sniffles as she drops her forehead to Quinn’s shoulder, and her tears come even harder when Quinn shrugs away from her.

Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, lifting her head. “I…I’ll call the taxi,” she chokes out. “Just…just stay here for a minute,” she pleads, cautiously letting go of Quinn’s wrist as she steps back. She clutches her dress closer to her chest as if it will somehow protect her from her own heartbreak as she turns to look for her phone on the chair where she’d thrown it earlier.

 **QUINN:** “No,” she argues with a soft shake of her head. “No. I don’t… please don’t cry. Please.”

The sight of Rachel crying cuts into Quinn, and it just makes her hate herself all that much more.

She’s ruined everything.

But as much as she’s always wanted Rachel and loved her for the better part of ten years, Quinn begrudgingly accepts that this was always how it was meant to be—she could never be what Rachel truly deserves.

Because she’s not good enough.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s sorrowful words have Rachel turning around to look at her again, finding her still standing by the door with her hand on the knob, though turned around just enough to look at Rachel with quiet agony radiating off her body. Clutching her phone in one hand, Rachel presses it against her chest to keep the dress in place while she quickly lifts her other hand to wipe haphazardly at her wet cheeks. She sniffles again, swallowing thickly against the burning in her throat, and tries to compose herself.

She needs to be stronger for Quinn.

“I’m crying because you’re leaving,” she croaks out, wiping her cheeks again before dropping her hand back to the material covering her chest. She digs her fingers into the fabric almost painfully.

“I’m so afraid you’re going to walk out of here and…and,” she stutters as squeezes her eyes closed, trying to make every worst case scenario that’s flashing through her mind disappear, “I’m never going to see you again,” she finishes on a pained whisper, shaking her head as she opens her eyes and silently pleads with Quinn to tell her that will never happen.

“Please just stay,” she urges again. “Talk to me. We…we’re supposed to work through this together.”

 **QUINN:** Her heart plummets further into her stomach, and Quinn swallows thickly. Her thoughts are racing and her emotions are churning, and every part of her is screaming to leave because she’s about to break.

But Rachel’s pleas and tears have Quinn’s feet rooted.

Her eyes slam shut as her fists clench, face screwing up a little.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she admits shakily, shame once again flooding through her as her own tears start to fall. “You’ll hate me,” she whispers, wiping angrily at her eyes.

 **RACHEL:** Her heart lurches, and she drops her phone back to the chair before rushing forward. The sight of Quinn’s tears and her self-loathing words make Rachel ache, and she reaches for Quinn—still clutching her dress with one hand while the other curves determinedly to Quinn’s cheek.

“Oh, Quinn. Baby, no. I could never hate you. I love…”

Rachel snaps her mouth closed before she finishes the declaration, sucking in a breath as Quinn’s startled gaze connects with hers. She swallows heavily, shaking her head slightly as she slowly drops her hand.

“This…this isn’t how I wanted to say it for the first time,” she admits sadly.

Rachel had imagined this whole evening turning out so very differently. Her first 'I love you’ was supposed to be sweet and romantic, but the current circumstances don’t change what’s in her heart—the love that’s been growing inside of her for months, probably from the moment she’d seen Quinn again at that Jets game last October. And now the woman she loves is in pain, and Rachel doesn’t know why or what she can do to help.

“But I’ve been feeling it for so long. I love you, Quinn.”

 **QUINN:** She can only stare, her breath caught in her throat, as Quinn tries to process Rachel’s words despite her own turmoil.

'She loves me.’

Quinn lowers her head then, pressing her lips together as her eyes close, sucking in a sharp breath through her nose before shakily exhaling.

“I… I love you too,” she admits, but her stomach still churns with guilt. Rachel never could have loved her without Finn losing his life. “But I’m not…” Quinn shakes her head, furrowing her brow as a few more tears slip out, “good enough.”

 **RACHEL:** Hearing Quinn’s confession of love should bring Rachel nothing but joy, but the tiny flicker of happiness that comes is immediately snuffed out by her next words and by how broken she looks right now, and Rachel feels another tear escape over her cheek at the thought of how wrong tonight has gone.

She reaches out to cup Quinn’s face again, gently lifting her head back up until she has no choice but to look at her.

“You are so much more than good enough, Quinn,” she insists, praying that Quinn will hear her and believe. “You’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever met,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over Quinn’s wet cheek and offering a small smile as she recalls what she’d told Quinn so many years ago, “and still so much more than that.”

Quinn tries to shake her head—to silently deny it—and look away, but Rachel won’t let her. Forgetting about her grip on her dress, she steps closer to Quinn and frames her face with both hands. The material slips down and catches somewhere between their bodies.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I…I don’t know what’s happening inside your head right now, but I want to help you through this…if you’ll let me.”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s gentle touch and sweet words both soothe Quinn and makes her guilt flare. Rational thought is trying with how she feels right now, but the way Rachel is looking at her—with love and devotion—it’s everything she ever wanted, and nothing that she deserves.

Her eyes fall closed again, as more tears escape. Quinn is still afraid that things will go even more sideways if she stays, but she no longer has the ability to leave, even if she wants to, because the dam is about to break.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn doesn’t give her a verbal answer, but Rachel can see the tears streaming steadily over her cheeks and the way her body is beginning to tremble even more that it already had been. Swallowing thickly, Rachel moves her hands from Quinn’s face to her shoulders.

“Quinn, honey, can you come sit down with me?” she urges gently. Quinn drags in a shuddering breath before choking back a sob, but she gives a short, jerky nod of her head.

Rachel releases a quiet sigh of relief and, after quickly sinking down to grab her dress, carefully leads Quinn the short distance to her sofa and guides her down. Quinn’s fingers immediately curl into the cushion, and she gazes up at Rachel (or maybe her tattoo again) with red-rimmed hazel eyes filled with pain, guilt, and fear.

“I’m just going to…” Rachel trails off as she shakes out her dress, lifting it awkwardly in explanation as she arranges it so she can slip it back on. She doesn’t want to be half-naked for whatever is going to happen next.

 **QUINN:** She averts her gaze as Rachel slips on her dress, but not before catching another glimpse that tattoo, and the tears come faster.

Quinn buries her head in her hands as she finally breaks. There’s no coherent thoughts in her head, only a tidal wave of emotion that she has to ride out.

She’s vaguely aware of Rachel sinking down on the couch next to her and a warm hand on her back. It makes things both better and worse, and Quinn briefly tightens her fingers in her hair as her jaw clenches.

She knows she should say something—offer some kind of explanation to Rachel—but trying to get her emotions under control while in the throes of an anxiety attack is impossible.

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t know what to do. Rachel can only sit there in silent agony, helpless to do anything but rest a comforting hand on Quinn’s back while she falls apart beside her.

It’s the first time she’s had to watch Quinn go through something like this, and she’s suddenly terrified that she might not be good enough or strong enough to be what Quinn needs in the long run. She’s been worried whether or not she’s capable of helping Quinn deal with her episodes and everything that comes with them, but it’s even worse now that she’s confronted with the painful reality of how inadequate and impotent she feels while it’s happening.

Battling her own tears, Rachel curls her free hand over Quinn’s thigh and bows her head close to Quinn’s. “I’m here, Quinn,” she murmurs. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, repeating it over and over again as Quinn breaks in her arms.

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t know how much time passes as she falls apart on Rachel’s couch, crying and feeling absolutely wretched about herself for every reason imaginable. Her heart is pounding inside her chest, her body shakes, and her stomach continues to churn.

But eventually, the worst of it tapers off and Quinn is able to come back to her surroundings—focusing on Rachel’s quiet pleas and the warmth of her body.

Quinn tries to slow her breathing, dragging shaky inhales through her mouth and expelling them.

Long moments later, she manages to get out a whispered “I’m sorry.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s body relaxes against Rachel in increments, and Rachel holds her closer. “You don’t need to keep apologizing,” she says softly, resting her forehead against Quinn’s temple. “But if it helps, you’ll always have my forgiveness for whatever it is you think you’ve done to need it.”

Rachel feels Quinn grow tense in her arms, and she doesn’t understand why.

“Do you…can you talk to me now, Quinn?” she questions tentatively, wanting to understand what just happened and why.

 **QUINN:** She’s always admired Rachel’s ability to forgive, and she’s been so grateful for her forgiveness—dating all the way back to high school—but some things are unforgivable.

Quinn swallows thickly. “I’ll try,” she replies a little unevenly. Even though she’s terrified to do so, a part of Quinn knows she at least owes Rachel that much.

 **RACHEL:** Relieved to hear that Quinn is finally willing to talk to her, Rachel lifts her head and quickly brushes away the remnants of her tears. She feels puffy and gross from the crying, and Quinn looks—well, actually, Quinn still looks beautiful despite the evidence of her tears, but she also looks drained and miserable.

Rachel reaches up to sift her fingers through Quinn’s hair, pushing it back from her eyes. “Take your time,” she encourages. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promises again.

 **QUINN:** She lets out another breath to try and steady herself. Her head is still swimming, and she doesn’t really know where to start.

“I love you, Rachel,” Quinn finally says, voice quiet and pained, not daring to look at Rachel, instead staring bleary-eyed at her lap. “I’ve loved you for so, so long… but you… you loved Finn.”

 **RACHEL:** Sucking in a breath, Rachel’s hand stills in Quinn’s hair. She’d had her suspicions since she’d reconnected with Quinn and discovered her sexuality that her attraction to Rachel might have gone all the way back to high school, but now with Quinn’s confession, Rachel realizes that it had been more than just an attraction.

An indescribable ache settles around Rachel’s heart just thinking about what Quinn might have been feeling—and oh, all those confrontations that they’d had over Finn come rushing back. Rachel wonders now just when Quinn’s feelings for her had changed.

She remembers how Quinn had all but begged her not to marry Finn—remembers the moment she’d given in and agreed to come to the wedding with glistening eyes and—

'When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right?’

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, biting back a whimper. “You were in love with me,” she realizes with a growing sense of dread. “When I…when I tried to marry Finn, and you…you nearly…”

Quinn had only answered that damned text because Rachel had sent it—because she was coming to a wedding that she didn’t approve of with her heart broken, all because she was in love with Rachel and wanted her to be happy. And Rachel had shut her eyes to the obvious truth because there was no way she could have believed at the time that Quinn Fabray could ever feel anything like that for her.

“You nearly died because of me,” she whispers in horror.

 **QUINN:** She shakes her head, sniffling. “That wasn’t your fault,” Quinn insists. “And I didn’t die. I got a second chance, and then a third.” Her brow furrows with the knowledge that Finn wasn’t given another chance.

“But you only had eyes for Finn, and I just wished…” Quinn trails off, shame flooding her, but she pushes on, knowing Rachel deserves to know the truth.

“For years I wished that you would see me like you saw him. I wished that he would disappear from your life.” Her stomach churns with guilt as her eyes close once more. “And then he did. And now I have you. You… you actually love me back, but only because he’s gone.”

 **RACHEL:** For a moment, Rachel sits in stunned silence, processing what Quinn is telling her. There’s a familiar stab of pain that comes with thinking of Finn’s death—of the way he’d died and everything they’d left unsaid and undone—and hearing that Quinn had wished him gone, even for a moment, multiplies that pain exponentially.

Rachel sits back, curling her arms around her stomach protectively, and she doesn’t miss Quinn’s choked sob at the loss of her touch.

If she removes herself from that pain—and God, it’s hard—she knows that Quinn isn’t saying she’d wished Finn dead. Gone and dead are two very different things. After all, Rachel had uncharitably wished Quinn would conveniently disappear once or twice in those early days—when things between them had been really bad and when Quinn had been the thing standing between Rachel and her obsessive need to win the heart of her leading man.

She can’t really blame Quinn for wanting a chance with Rachel without Finn between them when Rachel had done the same thing in her quest to have a chance with Finn.

But Quinn so very obviously blames herself.

In an instant, Rachel realizes exactly why Finn is such a trigger for Quinn. It isn’t merely the fact that she’d been given a second (and third) chance at life when Finn hadn’t, it’s that she feels like her secret wish for a clear path to Rachel somehow came true and now she can never let herself take it because the price was too high.

“That’s what triggered you. And why you never reached out to me,” Rachel realizes brokenly. “You think Finn’s death is somehow your fault. That I’ll hate you for wishing him gone.”

 **QUINN:** She nods jerkily. “And you should,” Quinn says before swallowing thickly. “I would. I do.”

And oh, how she does. But Quinn’s always been selfish, so despite her self-hatred and guilt, she grabbed on to the chance to be with Rachel after all these years, even though part of her knew she was only second best, and that Finn owned Rachel’s heart.

 **RACHEL:** Shaking her head in denial, Rachel is quick to shift closer to Quinn on the sofa, taking one of her hands and urging her gaze to Rachel with the other. The ache in her heart intensifies in the face of Quinn’s self hatred. But—

“I don’t hate you,” Rachel says very clearly. “I’ve never hated you, Quinn. Even when we were fifteen and I had a reason to.” She doesn’t elaborate on those reasons. She doesn’t need to. Quinn is already hurting enough without a more detailed reminder of their colorful past.

“You are not responsible for Finn’s death. He made a choice to get into that boat with those boys when they’d all been drinking,” she chokes out, shaking her head again as she drags in a deep breath to compose herself.

Quinn’s eyes are filled with tears, and she tries to look away, but Rachel won’t allow her to.

“You didn’t take him away from me, baby. He took himself away, and even if he hadn’t, we weren’t together at the time,” she reminds Quinn sadly. It’s part of what had made losing Finn so difficult—all the might have beens and maybes. The sad truth is that Rachel can never be certain that their story would have had a happy ending if Finn had lived. “Maybe we would have found our way back to each other someday, or maybe…maybe we would have drifted even further apart. The only thing I know for certain is that Finn didn’t die because of some unvoiced desire for a chance to find love that you had when you were eighteen,” she insists, squeezing Quinn’s hand.

“So, please…please, baby. Forgive yourself, because I already have.”

 **QUINN:** She tries to focus on Rachel’s words and warm brown eyes that refuse to let Quinn look away. A part of Quinn knows what Rachel’s saying is true—and she wants to believe it more than anything (needs to, really)—but she’s still all mixed up, half-way drunk, and, well, still Quinn.

Another sharp breath escapes Quinn’s nose as she grips the cushion beneath her. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

 **RACHEL:** Puffing out a breath, Rachel nods sadly. Some part of her had expected that Quinn wouldn’t forgive herself so easily. As much as she wishes her words could be enough to ease Quinn’s guilt, she knows only Quinn has the power to do that, and she simply isn’t there yet.

“Even if you can’t forgive yourself right now, please believe that I don’t hate you, Quinn. And I don’t blame you. I love you, and I want a future with you,” Rachel tells her earnestly. “Finn might be gone, but we’re both still here, and we’re alive, and we have a chance at happiness with each other. Maybe you don’t feel like it right now, but you do deserve to be happy, Quinn.”

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s words about Quinn deserving happiness are so much like ones she’s heard before from both Kaitlyn and Dr. Herrara, but accepting them as truth is still too hard.

But Quinn tries to grab hold of the fact that Rachel wants a future with her… she doesn’t really know how it’s possible, but Rachel seems to think Quinn can give her a chance at happiness.

“I want you to be happy,” she says after a beat. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. But I’m messy, Rachel, and I don’t know if I can give that to you.”

 **RACHEL:** She hasn’t failed to notice that Quinn is only talking about Rachel’s happiness and not her own. It breaks her heart.

“Life is messy,” she points out with a frown. “It can be tragic and painful and sad, but it can also be beautiful and thrilling and full of hope and second chances.” Rachel lifts her hand again, stroking Quinn’s cheek with her thumb. “I want all of that with you, Quinn. The good and the bad.”

Quinn’s eyes flutter closed as she exhales shakily. “I know it won’t always be easy, but I want to try. Can we…can we please try to make each other happy?” Rachel asks, suddenly fearful that the answer might be 'no.’ “Or…or is being with me…remembering how I felt about Finn…always going to be too painful for you?”

She never wants to be the cause of Quinn’s pain, but she can’t change the fact that she’d loved Finn Hudson first—even if her heart belongs to Quinn now.

 **QUINN:** She can hardly believe it. After everything, Rachel doesn’t hate her? She still wants to be with her?

Quinn considers Rachel’s question as best she can. The future is so hard to picture when she’s prisoner to this moment—to the pain and the guilt she still carries with her, along with the demons that can take hold when Quinn starts to spiral.

The truthful answer right now is 'both,’ but Quinn can’t bring herself to say it—knowing that Rachel is still willing to be with her, despite it all, makes her swallow down the word.

“I want to try,” she replies, finally looking toward Rachel and taking in the sight of her tear-streaked face and worried gaze. Quinn frowns. “God, I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything tonight.”

 **RACHEL:** A sad laugh passes Rachel’s lips. “Well, this certainly isn’t how I planned for us to finish our night together,” she concedes, reaching out to brush a few messy strands of Quinn’s hair back from where they’ve again fallen over her eyes.

Rachel can’t deny that she’s disappointed her attempt at creating the perfect evening had fallen apart so spectacularly. Part of her had known from Quinn’s odd behavior and the drinking that something was wrong, but she’d chosen to believe that it would be okay because she’d wanted it to be, ignoring the signs that Quinn was struggling. Tonight has been a reality check for her—another painful reminder that she can’t simply will things to happen (or not happen) because she wants it so much. She has to learn to be even less self-involved when it comes to Quinn and less afraid to voice her concerns.

“But I think maybe I needed to better understand some of the demons you keep battling,” Rachel muses, gazing into sorrowful hazel eyes. “And tonight isn’t completely ruined. You’re still here,” she points out with a small smile. “You stayed with me. And…and you love me,” she murmurs softly, finally letting herself feel the joy of that discovery.

Quinn Fabray loves her. That’s too much of a gift to be thrown away just because that love comes with a few extra complications, and Rachel Berry has never been afraid to put in the extra effort when something really matters to her.

 **QUINN:** “I do,” she confirms quietly, watching Rachel’s smile grow as that realization sinks in.

There’s still a level of emotional discomfort that tempers Quinn’s own happiness at seeing Rachel’s eyes practically light up, or the happiness over her own feelings for Rachel actually being reciprocated.

But that doesn’t change the facts, Quinn realizes—she loves Rachel, Rachel loves her in return, and despite Quinn’s messiness, she wants to try to make a relationship work.

Although, tonight was hardly the worst night of Quinn’s life. She just hopes Rachel will never have to bear witness to anything like that.

 **RACHEL:** The little flame of hope and happiness in Rachel’s heart burns even brighter, and she leans closer, brushing her lips over Quinn’s in a sweet kiss. “I love you, Quinn,” she says again, watching Quinn’s eyes go soft.

“Will you stay the night?” Rachel asks hopefully. “I just want to hold you,” she promises, stroking Quinn’s cheek. The need to keep Quinn close to her right now is so strong, and she doesn’t want either of them to be alone tonight. Not after what just happened.

 **QUINN:** She still feels awful about how tonight turned out, and part of Quinn just wants to hide in her bedroom. But Rachel’s soft kiss and gentle touch and desire to be close has Quinn not giving into that particular demon and choosing to do what’s ultimately best for both her and Rachel and their relationship.

“I’ll stay,” she breathes, reaching for Rachel’s free hand, which instantly grabs hold of Quinn’s.

 **RACHEL:** “I’m glad,” Rachel whispers with a smile, grasping onto Quinn’s hand. She’s happy that Quinn is agreeing to stay. It reinforces her belief that they’ll be able to work through these difficult moments together.

Her oldest friends are still worried that she’s making a mistake—that Quinn will end up hurting her—and the fact that Quinn has continued to keep her distance from them hasn’t helped. Blaine has been more understanding thanks to his experience with his cousin, but even he has cautioned Rachel that being in a relationship with Quinn might have some really low points. As if Rachel doesn’t realize that.

But she still believes more than anything that Quinn is worth it, because the good moments are so very good—filled with laughter, shy smiles, wonderful conversations, and so much happiness. It’s everything Rachel has always wanted to experience with a partner, and if having that means learning to navigate the darker episodes of Quinn’s mental illness, then Rachel is damn well going to do that.

“Do you need anything right now?” Rachel asks, squeezing Quinn’s hand. “I can make us some coffee or tea if you’d like.”

 **QUINN:** She smiles sadly at Rachel’s question. What Quinn really wants to do right now is curl under a blanket and not think. Granted, the 'not-thinking’ part of that scenario is pretty much impossible.

“Tea would be good,” Quinn answers. “Preferably without caffeine, if you have it.”

 **RACHEL:** Nodding in understanding, Rachel mentally pictures the boxes tucked away in her cabinet. “I think I have some decaffeinated black tea. I know I have chamomile and ginger.” She’d just restocked her herbal teas last week. “I’ll put the water on. Just let me know which you’d prefer.”

Rachel reluctantly tears herself away from Quinn’s side, smoothing her dress as she stands. “And if you’re in the mood for comfort food, I still have that cake. It’s gluten free.”

 **QUINN:** She immediately feels the loss of Rachel’s warmth, but she’s too drained to attempt to follow her into the kitchen.

“I’ll have chamomile, please,” Quinn says, thinking it would be the most calming—even if just psychosomatic. She worries her lower lip for a moment, feeling badly about what she’s going to say next. “And I need to pass on the cake. My stomach is too knotted up to eat anything.”

 **RACHEL:** She’d kind of expected that answer, and she offers Quinn a supportive smile. “I understand. Why don’t you sit back and relax for a little while. I’ll just be a few minutes,” Rachel promises.

Quinn nods tiredly and watches Rachel turn for the kitchen. Once she’s inside and out of sight, Rachel leans her hands against the countertop and takes a few deep breaths, feeling suddenly exhausted herself. She can only imagine what Quinn must be feeling.

Shaking her head, Rachel straightens from the counter and reaches for her tea kettle. After filling it with fresh water, she puts in on the burner and sifts through her cabinets for the chamomile tea before pulling down two mugs.

She leans back against the counter, waiting for the water to boil and giving Quinn—and maybe herself—a little extra time to calm down.

 **QUINN:** She slips her shoes off and lifts her legs up onto the couch before shifting to lay down on her side, grabbing one of the throw pillows and tucking it under her head. Quinn lets out a sad sigh and closes her eyes.

She still feels all mixed up, and her body is tense and shaky and tired all at once. She tries to focus on her breath, but she’s still stuffy from crying, so it doesn’t really work.

It’s then that Quinn realizes those old Motown songs are still playing in the background, and this time it’s Jimmy Ruffin asking “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted.”

 **RACHEL:** The whistle on the teapot begins to trill, and Rachel quickly removes it from the heat, pouring the steaming water into each waiting mug in turn. She neatly arranges the string of the teabags over the rims so that they don’t slip inside before carefully lifting them and padding back into her living room.

Rachel frowns when she doesn’t immediately see Quinn in the spot where she’d left her, and her heart lurches at the possibility that Quinn had snuck out on her after all. But then her eyes catch on the toe of a yellow shoe on the floor, peeking out around the edge of her sofa, and she practically sighs in relief.

Continuing into the room, Rachel heads for her coffee table to deposit the tea, thinking that Quinn might be in the bathroom, but as she walks around the back of the sofa, she notices her girlfriend curled up on the cushions. Rachel pauses to take in the sight. Quinn must be exhausted, and Rachel’s heart goes out to her as a sad smile curves her lips.

And then she hears a muffled sniffle.

Frowning again, Rachel steps closer and notices that Quinn’s cheeks are wet again and her shoulders are shaking just enough to be noticeable. Rachel’s heart lodges in her throat, and she quickly sets the mugs down on the table, splashing a bit of the hot water onto her wrist as she does so. Rachel hisses at the burning sensation, but the momentary flash of pain is the last thing on her mind as she sinks down next to Quinn, immediately reaching out to stroke her hair.

“Quinn, baby, are you okay?” she asks worriedly, wondering what could have happened in the short time she was in the kitchen.

 **QUINN:** There’s a quiet but persistent ache in Quinn’s heart, seemingly only exacerbated by the music playing, and she can’t stop the tears that start falling once again.

So caught up in the feeling, she doesn’t notice Rachel’s return until she feels gentle fingers in her hair and the worried question that accompanies them.

Quinn swallows thickly before opening her eyes to look at Rachel. “I don’t…” she sniffles, not really knowing how to explain why she feels this way, but she still feels guilty all the same. “I’m sorry.”

 **RACHEL:** “Oh, sweetheart, no,” Rachel whispers, not knowing what to say.

She slides down as best she can on the edge of the sofa cushion—awkward angle be damned!—and attempts to hold Quinn in a loose embrace, resting her cheek against Quinn’s shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for what you’re feeling. Just…tell me if I can do anything to make it better,” she begs, wanting nothing more than to curl her body around Quinn and protect her from the whatever demons are tormenting her now.

 **QUINN:** Hazel eyes flutter closed once more. Rachel’s comfort and love is more than she deserves, but Quinn can’t bring herself to push it away.

She does, however, manage to push away the urge to apologize again.

“You’re perfect,” Quinn replies softly after a beat. And she is.

Quinn furrows her brow and tries to bury herself further into the couch and against Rachel at the same time. If only she could be what Rachel really deserves.

 **RACHEL:** Despite the situation, Rachel finds herself smiling at Quinn’s words. To hear Quinn Fabray tell her that she’s perfect—it’s everything.

“It’s about time you noticed that,” Rachel jokes softly, attempting to make Quinn smile a little. The sad chuckle that follows isn’t exactly what she was hoping for, but it’s certainly a start.

With Quinn’s subtle shifting on the sofa, Rachel finds a little more space and decides to take advantage of it, maneuvering around—despite Quinn’s little whimper of protest when Rachel momentarily lets go of her—so she can slip in behind Quinn and curl around her the way she longs to. Quinn immediately grabs the arm that slides around her waist and holds it tightly to her body.

“Just rest for awhile, baby,” Rachel murmurs soothingly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

 **QUINN:** Having Rachel hold her like this—wanting to keep Quinn safe—eases some of the ache that’s settled over her. If only Rachel could keep Quinn safe from the darker parts of herself.

But that Rachel is willing to stay at her side, quite literally, when Quinn stumbles—it helps.

The music changes to something more upbeat, and as the sounds of the Four Tops crooning float through the air, Quinn focuses on the warmth of Rachel’s body and her protective embrace. She feels herself start to relax ever-so-slowly, even though her melancholy feels like its seeped into her bones.

 **RACHEL:** The tension in Quinn’s body gradually begins to melt away in slow increments. Rachel can feel the change in her, but she doesn’t delude herself into thinking that everything is okay now. Still, she’s relieved that Quinn finally seems calmer.

Rachel closes her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of Quinn’s shampoo and perfume as her own exhaustion settles in, and she lets herself sink further into the warm cocoon that surrounds them—content for the moment just to lie here between Quinn’s body and the back of her sofa.

It’s hardly perfect, but it’s real, and it’s enough for now. Rachel holds Quinn just a little bit closer with no intention of ever letting her go.

 **QUINN:** She doesn’t know how long they’ve been laying here like this, but Quinn isn’t in any hurry to move. She wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this, in Rachel’s arms.

Even though things went sideways tonight and Quinn is still feeling low, now that Rachel knows the truth, some of the weight has been lifted. Rachel doesn’t hate her for it. And somehow, she actually loves Quinn.

It’s what she tries to hold on to as she starts to drift off, hoping and praying that it will be enough to keep the lurking demons at bay.


	18. Wrecking Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thursday, April 30, 2020**  
>  Quinn has an unexpected run-in with a former friend during the Jets Draft Party.

Tonight is the start of the 2020 NFL Draft, which also marks the first official event of the Jets Flight Crew’s season: the annual Jets Draft Party at MetLife Stadium for season-ticket holders.

The draft won’t start for another hour, but there’s already a lot of excitement in the building. Fans have been making their way in, and barely a minute goes by without a “J-E-T-S! Jets! Jets! Jets!” echoing through the corridor leading to the Coaches Club—the VIP club with direct access to the field.

Quinn is currently smiling and posing for the cameras along with her fellow Flight Crew sisters on the green carpet. It won’t be long until they make their way onto the field to perform for the guests in attendance in a pre-draft celebration.

But as much as Quinn is looking forward to getting back to performing, it feels bittersweet. Besides Kaitlyn, Marissa and Sara are Quinn’s closest friends from the squad, but they both retired at the end of last season. Sure, she gets along well with the other girls who are returning, and she is looking forward to getting to know the rookies, but a part of Quinn wishes Marissa and Sara (and even Kaitlyn) were here.

Tonight, the Flight Crew are wearing short, white baby-doll dresses, accented with a green belt and collar, that do a fantastic job of showing off their legs. White sneakers and green and silver pom-poms round out the look.

Even though things have been a bit delicate between Quinn and Rachel since her anxiety attack a week and a half ago, Quinn knows how much Rachel appreciates her various uniforms, so she’d been sure to take a selfie to send to her girlfriend before heading out of the locker room. Quinn wishes she had enough time to wait for Rachel’s response, but work beckoned. Regardless, she hopes it will get things back to relative normalcy between them (although, she can’t help but wonder what Rachel’s reaction was).

Of course, the “I love yous” have been amazing—Quinn can still hardly believe Rachel Berry loves her—but the flirting has been almost non-existent. She knows Rachel is waiting for the cue from Quinn on that front, and even though she still feels incredibly torn about that tattoo and everything her mind connects it to, she’s trying to work with her doctor to reconcile things.

* * *

Guns and Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle” blasts through the stadium’s PA system, and it sends a jolt of energy through Quinn. There’s nothing like performing on this field in front of these fans.

Her arms thrust up toward the sky, shaking green and silver pom-poms, before she sends her hips back and rocks them forward, exploding in motion.

It’s a routine that Quinn knows well—it might as well be part of the Flight Crew’s repertoire at this point—but it always feels fresh and exciting every time she performs it. And after all this time away from the squad, it’s especially invigorating to be under the bright lights of MetLife Stadium once more.

She struts along the 50-yard line, her wrists never pausing in their shaking of pom-poms, as the crowd cheers. And for a brief moment, it hits her that she’s standing exactly where Rachel once did—singing the National Anthem—and she manages to take a moment to thank God for letting her survive long enough to not only witness it but reconnect with Rachel.

* * *

After their performance on the field, the Flight Crew makes their way into the Coaches Club, where they spend the next half hour posing for pictures with fans. Quinn makes sure to spend extra time talking to the children who approach her, especially the girls.

When the draft starts, the Flight Crew splits up into groups of three, scattering about the club to take up small tables reserved for them and to chat with any fans who are still looking for pictures.

But for the most part, the fans are hardly paying attention to them—they’re much too focused on the actual proceedings in Chicago, where the commissioner is announcing each team’s pick (and receiving a healthy amount of boos).

It isn’t until almost 9:30 that the Jets make their first pick, which is fairly late in the first round, but not surprising considering the team’s strong finish last season. They take a wide receiver from Michigan who sends the crowd into a frenzy. Frankly, Quinn doesn’t care to know anything about players until they’re actually on the team, so she has no idea who this guy is.

But it doesn’t really matter right now. The fans are happy, and Quinn is finally free to take a bit of a break.

She excuses herself to get some water, making her way to the end of the bar and flagging down the bartender. As she waits for him to return with her bottle of water, a female voice sounds behind her. “If Sue Sylvester could see you now.”

Quinn tenses at the unexpected familiarity of that voice, but there’s no mistaking who it belongs to. Her initial surprise quickly fades, replaced by a growing unease as Quinn turns to face Santana Lopez for the first time in seven years. And despite the Jets hat that Santana is wearing, Quinn seriously doubts she’s actually a fan—let alone a Jets season-ticket holder.

“Santana,” she says, trying to stay calm and taking some comfort in the fact that they’re in a very public setting. Not that that’s stopped Santana from going after her in the past. Her presence alone has Quinn feeling a lot like she’s been slammed into a row of lockers.

“Tubbers,” Santana replies, her expression hard and unyielding. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but I think we both know that’s not true. Honestly, you’re lucky we’re not alone right now.”

“Why, would you slap me again?” Quinn bites back, her hackles rising.

Santana sneers. “I should. Believe me, I want to, and you deserve it after bailing on us after Finn died—bailing on Rachel when she needed you most,” she says, and for a moment, it looks like there might be some genuine hurt along with anger swirling in brown eyes. “Do you have any idea how devastated she was? Did you even care?”

Guilt floods Quinn once more as she bristles. “Of course I did. But I couldn’t…” She trails off, not able or willing to explain. Besides, she knows Rachel has told Santana (and Brittany and Kurt and Blaine) about her bipolar disorder and the episode she had after Finn’s death.

“Bullshit. You should have called— _something_ , anything to let me-,” she cuts herself off before emphasizing, “ _us_ know  where the hell you were.” Brown eyes narrow and bore into her. “You weren’t the only one who was devastated by Finn’s death. We were all grieving, Quinn. And you obviously got over your ‘episode’ or whatever, so you should have picked up a fucking phone and reached out then.”

Quinn lets out a sharp breath. She had her reasons for doing what she did, and she knows it was for the best, but that doesn’t stop the guilt. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Santana shakes her head, her gaze never softening. “No, it’s not okay. And unlike Rachel, I’m not going to forgive you. I really don’t give a damn about having any kind of relationship with you again.”

“Why are you even here?” she asks warily, just wanting to get this over with.

“Because I don’t trust you, and Rachel’s too naïve for her own good. You’ve always been a mess, Quinn, and it’s just a matter of time before your life implodes again. I don’t want to see Rachel getting dragged down because of it. She was upset enough after your disaster of a birthday dinner.”

Quinn’s breath catches in her throat as her stomach twists unpleasantly. Of course it makes sense that Rachel would talk to her friends about Quinn, but that logic is overwhelmed by a wave of unease at Santana knowing anything about what happened that night.

Her fists clench at her sides, and Quinn responds the only way she knows how with Santana—fight fire with fire. “And this is exactly why I stayed away for all these years—I knew you would never understand or care about was happening with me.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. I understand plenty, and if you really care about Rachel—if you love her as much as you claim to—then you’ll do the right thing and keep your trainwreck of a life away from hers.”

Blood rushes in Quinn’s ears, and her jaw tightens. Every word Santana says feels like a punch in the gut, because it’s nothing Quinn hasn’t thought before. But right now, it only serves to fuel her anger and anxiety.

“Screw you, Santana,” she grits out, nostrils flaring.

“Been there, done that,” Santana shoots back. “And I wouldn’t touch your crazy again with a ten-foot pole. I just wish Rachel was smart enough to do the same.”

Her words have the impact of a physical blow, and Quinn is helpless to do anything about it. She feels cornered, and every part of her wants to push Santana away in every possible way—with her words, her fists—but the lithium running through her veins manages to keep her from completely losing it and wailing on Santana.

Instead, her right fist connects solidly with the side of the bar. It hurts, but Quinn barely registers the pain, her body thrumming with anger and adrenaline.

Santana’s eyes narrow as she squares her shoulders, and Quinn is vaguely aware of several pairs of eyes on them. She catches the swoosh of a white dress in her periphery then, but she’s unable to take her eyes off Santana, even as she feels the presence of one of her Flight Crew sisters standing at her side.

“Is there a problem?” Gina asks. Quinn barely hears her—too much emotion has swelled, and the pain radiating from her right hand is an achingly familiar counterbalance.

Santana purses her lips before folding her arms across her chest, her own gaze still fixed on Quinn. “Yeah, there is. And the problem is Quinn Fabray and the fact that she’s messing with my friend’s life.”

Quinn’s whole body tenses and it isn’t until Gina’s hand slams into her chest that she realizes that she’s moving forward.

“You need to leave,” Gina tells Santana, shifting to block Quinn’s entire body with her own, pressing her back against Quinn’s front as she wraps both arms around Quinn’s waist. “Now. Or else we’ll get security to escort you out.”

Santana holds her hands up in mock defense. “Fine,” she acquiesces but not before throwing one more jab Quinn’s way. “But if— _when_ —you hurt Rachel, don’t expect me to be this civil.” She takes the cap off her head then and tosses it on the ground. “Go Bengals!” she exclaims before quickly turning on her heels and heading out of the club, earning several jeers and boos from the Jets fans gathered. Santana throws up a pair of middle fingers as she goes, and it doesn’t take long until security actually does come to her side—whether for her own protection or to get her out of there faster or both, Quinn doesn’t know.

She can only stare after Santana as her own body shakes with anger, her stomach churning unpleasantly as her heart is gripped by familiar doubts and fears—that she’ll only drag Rachel down—that despite wanting to be the best partner for Rachel, she’ll never be good enough.

“Are you okay, Quinn?” Gina asks, turning to face her and gently gripping Quinn’s upper arms.

Quinn swallows thickly as she tries to get her breathing under control to no avail. She shakes her head. “No. I…” her voice quivers before she swallows again. “I can’t. I have to go.”

“Okay,” Gina says softly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” she repeats.

She can’t be around anyone right now.

Gina lowers her hands, and Quinn’s feet move. She’s not even consciously aware of where they’re taking her. She just needs to get out of here—away from all these people—away from everything.

She needs to get away from herself, but that’s impossible, isn’t it?

Quinn clenches her jaw once more as hopeless anger rises up in her. Her left fist solidly connects with the closest surface—the metal of a locker. Pain shoots through her hand, and Quinn presses her lips together before sliding down to the floor.

She buries her head in her hands, gripping her hair tightly and sending a fresh wave of pain through her knuckles, but she doesn’t care. She deserves it.

She hates this. She hates that she’s like this—that there’s nothing she can do about it. She hates that Santana is right about everything.

Bells chime over Quinn’s head then, and her stomach churns as her fists clench tighter. She knows that sound. It’s her phone. It’s the tone she assigned for Rachel’s text messages.

She wants nothing more than to reach into her locker and grab her phone—to try and find some sort of comfort in Rachel’s words—but she can’t do it. She doesn’t deserve Rachel’s love.

Tears streaming down her face, Quinn staggers to her feet and walks out into the night.


	19. Friends Like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Thursday, April 30, 2020 and the wee hours of Friday, May 1, 2020**  
>  Rachel deals with the aftermath of a friend's uninvited intervention.

When Rachel checks her phone at intermission, she's only a tiny bit disappointed not to see a response to the last text she'd sent Quinn. After all, it had taken her a full fifteen minutes to compose it—ten to admire the photo Quinn had sent of herself wearing the indecently short uniform she'd donned for tonight's Flight Crew event and five to decide on an appropriate balance between the blatant proposition she'd wanted to send and the more restrained tone she's been (barely) managing since their aborted attempt at consummating their physical relationship two weeks ago. But she knows Quinn was probably busy with her duties and unable to check her own texts—really, there isn't anywhere she could possibly hide a cellphone in that uniform. So Rachel shrugs and takes a sip of her water, refocusing her thoughts on the second half of her performance.

It's brilliant of course.

She's a little perplexed when she checks her phone after the final curtain call and still doesn't see a message from Quinn. It's 10:30, and she guesses it's possible that Quinn might still be at her event—Rachel isn't completely sure how long a draft party is supposed to last, though she'd thought it would be over by 10:00—but she decides to give Quinn a call anyway.

It goes to voicemail after ringing unanswered.

A knot of apprehension forms in her stomach, but she tells herself she's being foolish—Quinn might still be busy at the stadium or in the locker room or driving (and Rachel made her promise to never, ever answer her phone again while she's driving no matter what!)—and manages a tight smile and a nod when Stephanie asks if she's going out to sign autographs tonight.

Rachel calls again once she's done with her fans—and maybe she rushed through the small crowd a little more quickly than usual tonight—but Quinn still isn't answering. It's close to 11:00, and the knot in Rachel's stomach tightens.

She flags down a taxi and almost tells him to take her to New Jersey, but she stops herself, giving the driver her own address—not wanting to regress back to slightly obsessive behaviors just because she's having a little trouble getting through to Quinn. She tells herself there's a perfectly logical, not at all horrible, explanation—maybe Quinn's phone had died or she'd lost it or forgotten it in her locker, or maybe her event had ended much earlier than Rachel had believed it would and she's already home sleeping.

She calls Quinn twice more on the ride home.

She adds two more messages of, _"Quinn, baby, it's Rachel. Please call me a soon as you get this."_

Trembling hands fumble for the cash to pay the taxi driver before Rachel is out of the car and rushing on shaky legs up the five flights of stairs to her apartment. She's barely closed her door and hasn't yet caught her breath, but she's already scrolling through her contacts, pulling up Kaitlyn's name, and hitting the speed dial.

"Please pick up," she begs on the verge of tears, silently praying for Quinn to be there and safe, in which case Rachel will give her an earful about the importance of returning phone messages in a timely fashion or at least notifying your easily worried girlfriend why you won't be reachable by phone and exactly how long that situation is expected to last.

"Hey, Rachel," Kaitlyn answers, and to Rachel's trained ear, her tone sounds just a tiny bit off.

"Is Quinn with you?" Rachel asks desperately, forgetting all about her manners and not at all concerned with polite small talk. "I've tried calling her several times, but she isn't answering."

There's a frightening silence on the other end of the line. "She's not home yet," Kaitlyn admits. "I just tried to call her too."

Rachel can hear the edge of worry in Kaitlyn's voice, and her heart practically stops. "Oh, God," she cries, sinking down onto her sofa.

"Don't panic, okay," Kaitlyn quickly urges. "It's not impossible that she's still tied up at the stadium. Those parties can go pretty late sometimes if a few of the VIPs get extra chatty and drag their feet when it's time to leave. Let me try to track her down," she continues calmly. "I'll call some of the other girls on the squad, and let you know what I find out."

"Call me as soon as you know anything," Rachel pleads, losing the battle with her tears as her stomach churns with nausea. "No…no matter what you find out."

"I will," Kaitlyn assures her, pausing before she quietly adds, "I know you're worried, Rachel, but just try to stay calm until I find out what's going on. This might be nothing but a miscommunication."

Rachel sniffles, wiping her tears. "I'll try," she promises.

The call disconnects, and Rachel stares blankly at the phone while her mind cycles through the dozens of tragic scenarios she's been trying to keep at bay—a car accident, a mugging, a shooting, a kidnapping, a full blown bipolar episode that has Quinn taking a walk into the Hudson River.

"Oh, please, God. Please let her be okay," she cries, letting her tears come unchecked as she curls into a fetal position on her sofa with her phone clutched to her chest. As much as she wants it to ring right this second, she's terrified of what she might hear when she answers it.

The memory of another phone call comes rushing back to her—one that brought her world crumbling down on top of her—and she feels like she's going to be sick. Scrambling off the sofa, phone still glued to her hand, she barely manages to make it to her bathroom where she empties the meager contents of her stomach into the toilet. Her entire body trembles as she slides down onto the floor, sobbing.

Losing Finn had nearly destroyed her, but she'd somehow managed to survive it. She doesn't know that she'd be able to survive losing Quinn now.

_You're panicking, Rachel._

The little voice manages to cut through her turmoil, and she tries to pull herself together. Kaitlyn had told her to stay calm, and this is so far from calm. Rubbing angrily at her wet cheeks, Rachel pushes up from the floor and shakily steps over to the sink where she carefully lays her phone on the edge before splashing some cool water on her face. After patting it dry, she rinses her mouth with mouthwash. Her phone rings as she's spitting, and she lunges for it, hastily wiping her mouth.

"Kaitlyn? Did you find her?" she demands.

"Not yet," Kaitlyn answers regretfully. Rachel lets out a whimper, gripping the edge of her sink until her knuckles turn white as she swallows down the fresh burn of tears. "I'm going to drive up to the stadium," Kaitlyn tells her. "I talked to one of the girls, and Quinn's car was still in the parking lot when she left, so I think she might still be there."

"I can meet you there," Rachel says without thinking twice. She's already jogging through her apartment to grab her purse.

"It will take you at least forty-five minutes to get there. I can be there and home with Quinn by then," Kaitlyn gently deters.

"Then I'll come to your apartment."

Kaitlyn lets out a frustrated sigh. "That might not be the best idea."

"Why not?" Rachel snaps with a frown.

"Look, Rachel…I don't know exactly what happened tonight, but Gina told me there was some woman at the party who seemed to know Quinn and you," Kaitlyn informs her, and Rachel's entire body goes cold at the revelation. "There was a confrontation, and this woman said some things to Quinn…something about Quinn messing up your life."

"Oh, my God," Rachel whispers, dread rising in her throat until she thinks she might need to race for the bathroom again. There's only one person who would have tracked down Quinn at an event (other than Rachel) and said that to her, and her free hand closes into a painful fist as she imagines squeezing the breath out of Santana Lopez.

"Quinn didn't react well," Kaitlyn continues carefully. "I know how much you probably want to be here for her, but I think maybe you should let me talk to her first just in case," she trails off, but Rachel gets the idea.

"In case seeing me right now makes it worse for her," Rachel manages brokenly.

"I'm sorry," Kaitlyn says simply.

Rachel nods, even though Kaitlyn can't see her, as she leans heavily against the wall. "Call me when you find her," she demands, refusing to contemplate a scenario in which Kaitlyn doesn't find Quinn. "Let me know she's okay, and if…if she wants to see me, I'll be there as fast as I can. Tell her that, okay? And tell her I love her. I love her so much, and she isn't messing up anything for me."

"I will," Kaitlyn promises before disconnecting the call.

Rachel slides down the wall, letting the phone drop out of her hand when she hits the floor. With one hand pressed to her queasy stomach, she lets herself cry again—for Quinn and for herself.

And then the horrified anger begins to trickle in.

Why in the hell would Santana do something like this? Rachel hasn't even mentioned Quinn to her in weeks.

Well, _directly_ anyway. She _had_ talked to Brittany recently, but only because Brittany had remembered it was Quinn's birthday and asked what Rachel was getting her. And then Rachel had told her about the book and the dinner, so of course Brittany had asked her later how the birthday dinner had gone, and Rachel had sadly told her the truth.

She slams a palm against the floor, feeling the sting reverberate up her arm. "Of course, she told Santana," Rachel growls, realizing how stupid she'd been to think Brittany would keep anything from her wife—even things that didn't really concern her.

The anger bubbles up, spilling over the worry and fear that Rachel has been feeling for the last two hours and coating everything in a haze of red. How dare she! How dare she stick her bitchy nose in where it doesn't belong! How dare she jeopardize Rachel's relationship with Quinn—let alone Quinn's mental health and well-being!

Driven by righteous indignation and the need to _do something_ other than sit here and worry about Quinn, Rachel finds herself snatching up her phone and standing jerkily before she grabs her purse and storms out of the apartment. She doesn't care that it's after midnight! She's going to give Santana Lopez a piece of her mind, and if it costs her their friendship, she honestly doesn't care anymore. She only cares that whatever the hell Santana had done might end up costing her Quinn.

Rachel has to walk six blocks to the subway station, and the air does nothing to cool her temper. If she was less sick with worry over Quinn and anger at Santana for making her worry over Quinn, she might actually be worried about being out alone at the late hour. Yorkville is one of the better neighborhoods, but it's still Manhattan, and the subway is still the subway.

It takes thirty-five minutes and another five blocks of walking until she's standing on the threshold of the Pierce-Lopez apartment, banging on the door like a crazy woman. It's nearly 1:00 in the morning, but she doesn't care who she's waking up or what she's interrupting. Even having heard from Kaitlyn again—the assurance that she'd found Quinn sitting on a curb outside the stadium, still in her uniform, and had cleaned her up and was taking her home—didn't dampen Rachel's ire. In fact, the confirmation that Quinn isn't ready to talk to her or see her right now only makes everything worse.

"Open this door right now, Lopez!" Rachel yells, pounding the heel of her hand into the door again.

When the door finally does swing open, it isn't Santana standing on the other side. It's a red-eyed, sad-looking Brittany. "I told her she should have called you and told you what she did," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I didn't know what she was planning. She didn't tell me until she got home tonight."

Rachel ignores the pitiful expression on Brittany's face and the genuine sorrow in her voice. "Where is she?" she demands, hating the way her own voice cracks.

"I'm here," Santana mutters from over Brittany's shoulder, dressed in a robe with her hair a tangled mess and puffy, bloodshot eyes.

Rachel grits her teeth, pushing inside the apartment with no resistance from Brittany, who steps aside to let her pass before closing the door behind her. "How could you?" Rachel asks angrily, pointing a finger in Santana's face. "How could you go behind my back and…and _ambush_ Quinn when I told you…I told you she wasn't ready to see you?"

Santana crosses her arms defensively, but her eyes drop to the floor. "I don't trust her," she mumbles.

"I don't care!" Rachel shouts, throwing out her hands. " _I_ trust her," she insists, thumping her chest. "That's all that should matter to you. You're supposed to be my friend."

That brings Santana's eyes back up, flashing with a spark of temper. "And friends always tell each other everything, right?" she challenges heatedly. "Support each other no matter what? Rely on each other?" she fires out. "Like _you_ told us when Quinn dropped back into your life? Like she supported you when Finn died?" Rachel sucks in a harsh breath. "Like she…she fucking _relied_ on us when she went loca?" Santana spits, her voice cracking just a slightly at that. "Oh wait, none of that happened."

"You bitch," Rachel barks, clenching her fists at her side. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" she cries, slamming a fist into her thigh to keep from punching Santana in the nose. "What you _could_ have done? Quinn's roommate had to go looking for her tonight because she didn't go home! She wouldn't even answer her phone! I had no idea where she was or if something terrible had happened to her for hours. _Hour_ s," she repeats tearfully, crossing her fisted arms over her chest. Beside her, she hears Brittany let out a quiet sob. "Do you know what that did to me? Do you even care?"

Santana's fingernails visibly bite into her forearms, and she averts her eyes guiltily, but she remains stubbornly silent. A tearful Brittany rests a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Is Quinn okay?" she whispers.

"I don't know," Rachel chokes out, keeping her pained gaze trained on Santana as she shifts uncomfortably. "Kaitlyn found her but...but she doesn't want to talk to me. What did you _say_ to her, Santana?" she pleads, needing to know what she's up against—what demons she needs to battle this time.

Santana's jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "This," she finally answers. "I told her _this_ ," she reiterates, throwing out her hands as she meets Rachel's eyes—her own suspiciously moist. "That her issues would do _this_ to _you_! Mess you up and tear your heart out whenever she has one of her meltdowns and disappears on you. Yeah, maybe I fucked up by going to see her," she concedes, angrily brushing away a stray tear like it's some annoying bug, "but if it's not me, it's going to be something else. Like seeing your fucking tattoo!" she throws in Rachel's face, confirming that Brittany had, in fact, told her everything. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for her to blow up your life again?"

"It's _my_ life, Santana! I'm not some incompetent child who needs a protector to save me from potential heartbreak. It's too late for that anyway. I'm _in love_ with Quinn. _This_ ," she hisses, gesturing between them, "is the only thing that's breaking my heart right now. God, and she used to be your friend. Don't you care about her at all anymore?"

"I fucking _loved_ that bitch!" Santana cries, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she practically breaks down in front of Rachel's eyes. Brittany is at her side instantly, wrapping her arms around her wife as she sobs messily for a moment before composing herself enough to speak again. "Yeah, we gave each other shit when we were kids," Santana chokes out, "and maybe I dropped the ball when she was knocked up, but we _all_ did," she stresses with a scowl, and Rachel silently admits that Santana is right about that much at least.

Santana squares her shoulders, visibly pulling herself back together. "But I thought we were good. I thought she'd always be there to slap some sense into me when I needed it, like I would have for her. That's how we rolled. It was supposed to be me, her, and Britts...the Unholy Trinity 'til the end." She barks out a derisive laugh, wiping away her tears as Brittany drops her forehead onto Santana's shoulder. "But she fucking bailed on us, Rachel."

Rachel opens her mouth to protest—to remind Santana about Quinn's bipolar diagnosis—but Santana holds up a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know she had a breakdown or whatever, but she fucking wrote us off like we didn't matter at all to her. It was _my_ shoulder you cried all over when you realized she'd disappeared after Finn died. _I_ was the one who blew up her mother's phone and stalked Yale trying to find her ungrateful ass with you. _I_ was the one who watched you fall apart just a little bit more because you needed her...needed to not lose her too. _I_ needed to not lose her. So did Britt," she rasps, coiling an arm around her wife's waist. "But Quinn proved the only person she ever really cared about was herself...and you apparently," she mutters with a hurt expression.

"That's not true," Rachel whispers, sounding far less convincing than she intends and feeling her heart break all over again for all of them.

"Bullshit," Santana counters, pulling Brittany just a little closer. "Stop covering for her because she makes your lady bits tingle and just tell us the damn the truth for once. Quinn never wanted to see any of us again, did she? Not me, not Brittany, not Kurt or Blaine. And it's got nothing to do with her crazy...she just doesn't give a crap about anyone but you."

Brittany lifts her head, frowning. "Is that true, Rachel?"

She can't quite meet their eyes. "It's complicated," she hedges, knowing that Santana is pretty much right on the money about Quinn's feelings—even though Rachel wonders how much of that is influenced by her bipolar disorder and by those demons that keep telling her she isn't good enough and doesn't deserve to have people care about her.

"The fuck it is," Santana counters heatedly. "Quinn's pretty much proved she's not our friend, but _you_ are," she points out forcefully. "And I'm tired of watching you twist yourself into a fucking a pretzel to be whatever the hell she needs you to be while you get nothing but tears in return. I'm sorry I went behind your back to talk to her, but if Quinn really cares about you, she'll step up or step off."

And just like that, the little bit of sympathy that Rachel had started to feel for Santana evaporates. "What do you think she was doing for the last seven years?" she demands angrily, taking a step forward until she's right in Santana's space. "She stayed away because she felt guilty over Finn...because she _loved_ me and didn't think she could ever be what I needed. She thinks she isn't good enough for me, Santana...that I deserve better than her...and you basically just told her she's right!" Rachel shoves at Santana's shoulder, sending her stumbling back a step from the unexpected contact.

Brittany is between them in a heartbeat. "Stop the violence," she pleads. "Santana was wrong to do what she did," she admits, ignoring Santana's muted protest, "and I'm very angry at her too. But she did it because she cares about you, Rachel, and because Quinn hurt her feelings. Our feelings," Brittany amends quietly. "Because it's been two months since you told us about her, and she still doesn't want to see us. And maybe...maybe it does look a little like you're the one who keeps being all flexible and bendy while Quinn kind of rolls over you, but that's probably because we keep watching from a distance through these really dirty, fingerprinted lenses and can never get a clear picture, you know?"

"She's not _rolling over_ me," Rachel defends, her eyes darting between blue and brown. She can see the concern in both pairs, and part of her understands exactly what Brittany is trying to say. Quinn hasn't done herself any favors by avoiding Rachel's friends for so long. "But sometimes she _needs_ me in ways that no one has ever needed me before, and I want to be there for her because I love her...and she loves me." Maybe Rachel has had to learn to be more patient and give a little more than she ever has with anyone else, but it isn't all one-sided. The love and support she gets back from Quinn is worth every adjustment Rachel has had to make—that's what loving someone means. "Can you understand that?"

No one moves for a tense moment—barely even breathing—but then Rachel watches Brittany's eyes soften before she smiles sadly, offering a nod. "We understand," she murmurs, turning to Santana. "Don't we, San?"

Santana frowns, shaking her head. "You get that this is the rest of your life, right?" she asks Rachel sullenly. "Quinn's issues aren't just gonna disappear. You're going to be dealing with this shit as long as you're together."

"Which might not be for much longer, thanks to you," Rachel growls, choking back a sob as the weight of the situation Santana has put her in comes crashing back down on top of her. She doesn't want to believe that Quinn would take what Santana said to heart, but Rachel knows there's a chance she might end up losing Quinn over this—that Quinn might decide to play the martyr and give up Rachel for her own good.

"Please. Like Quinn won't come crawling back the minute you bat your big, brown eyes at her," Santana scoffs, but there's no real bite to it. "She's always been a sucker for you. And apparently, it's mutual."

Resignation laces Santana's voice, and Rachel sighs tiredly. "Look, I get that you're still angry with Quinn for shutting you out, and even that you're legitimately worried about me," Rachel concedes grudgingly, "but I swear to God, Santana, if you ever go behind my back and interfere in my relationship with Quinn again, she won't be the only friend you end up losing. Are we clear?"

Santana winces, and her eyes flash with hurt a second before her jaw clenches. "Crystal," she bites out.

"Good," Rachel returns before offering an apologetic look to Brittany. "I'm sorry for disturbing your evening."

"It's morning now," Brittany points out.

"Your morning then," Rachel amends regretfully.

Brittany shrugs. "You're worried about Quinn. I get it. I'm worried about her too. You're, like, her best medicine, I think, and Santana screwed up her dosage."

"Hey."

"You did," Brittany chastises with a frown. "I'm still mad at you," she reminds her. "But I still love you anyway." She turns back to Rachel with a sad smile. "And Quinn still loves you. So just make her remember she can be as good for you as you are for her."

"I hope I can, Brittany," Rachel murmurs, feeling the anger drain out of her despite the worry and fear still twisting her stomach into knots. "I really hope I can."

"Well, you can in the morning," Brittany decides. "The real morning...like when the sun is up. Until then, you can sleep in the guest room."

Rachel shakes her head. "No, I should get home."

"Fuck, Berry," Santana chimes in. "It's two in the morning. I get you're pissed at me, but there's no way we're letting you traipse through the city at this time of night. So until you officially unfriend me, you can just suck it up and stay put until a decent hour. Your phone works here just as well as at your apartment."

It's no use arguing with both of them, and Rachel is suddenly exhausted—drained right to her core and still sick with worry about Quinn—so she nods her agreement, wanting nothing more than to fall into a bed, burrow under the covers, and cry herself to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, she's doing exactly that with her phone on the pillow next to her where Quinn should be. She only hopes that when she wakes up tomorrow, she can fix the mess Santana made.


	20. Text Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Friday, May 1, 2020**  
>  Quinn finally responds to Rachel’s messages.

**RACHEL:** Quinn? Baby? It's me again.

**RACHEL:** Obviously, it's me. Who else would be texting you with my phone number?

**RACHEL:** I'm aware that you still might not be ready to talk to me, but please, baby...

**RACHEL:** Can you at least let me know if you're okay?

**QUINN:** I'm okay... but not okay.

**QUINN:** Sorry. I'm so sorry.

**RACHEL:** Oh, Quinn. Don't be sorry.

**RACHEL:** I'm sorry. Santana never should have ambushed you that way. She had no right. Please know that she doesn't speak for me.

**RACHEL:** You are *not* messing up my life.

**RACHEL:** I love you, Quinn.

**QUINN:** I love you too. so much.

**QUINN:** Santana was right tho

**QUINN:** wish she wasn't.

**RACHEL:** No. She is not right.

**RACHEL:** And I don't need her to protect me from you.

**RACHEL:** I don't need *you* to protect me from you either, Quinn.

**RACHEL:** Don't you dare let her ruin what we're building.

**QUINN:** I don't want to lose you

**QUINN:** But I don't want to be selfish. you deserve everything good, Rach.

**RACHEL:** *You're* everything good, Quinn!

**RACHEL:** And I have no problem be selfish. I want you in my life. You know I never give up on things I want.

**RACHEL:** Can I see you? I need to see you, Quinn.

**QUINN:** I want you too.

**QUINN:** you can see me... I think I need that too.

**RACHEL:** I can come tonight. As soon as you want me.

**QUINN:** What about your show?

**RACHEL:** I have an understudy.

**RACHEL:** I'm not exactly at my best right now anyway.

**QUINN:** I'm sorry. again :(

**QUINN:** kaitlyn said she can get you at the station

**RACHEL:** I forgive you, Quinn. I'll always forgive you.

**RACHEL:** Tell Kaitlyn I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to take a taxi to Bloomfield. It's faster.

**RACHEL:** I'll see you soon, baby.

**QUINN:** okay

**QUINN:** I love you

**RACHEL:** I love you too. ❤️


	21. Weathering the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Friday, May 1, 2020**  
>  Even though she’s spiraling, Quinn agrees to let Rachel see her.

**QUINN:** Slender fingers tighten in blonde hair as Quinn subtly rocks on her bedroom floor, torn between clutching her phone to her chest and tossing it across the room. She simultaneously craves Rachel and all the ways that she makes Quinn feel good, while also berating herself for wanting such things.

And then there’s the fact that Rachel wants her. Wants to see her. Needs to see her.

Why?

Why?

Quinn doesn’t know. She can’t make sense of it.

All she knows is that Rachel is on her way, and for no other reason than the fact that she loves Quinn.

A deluge of emotion and images flood Quinn’s heart and mind then. Fingers grip harder, tugging on tufts of blonde hair as teeth clench.

**RACHEL:** The forty-five minutes it takes for the taxi to navigate from Manhattan to Bloomfield feels like an eternity, but it’s better than spending over an hour on the train. Rachel stares out the window at the scenery and traffic, silently willing the car to go faster. She’s been tense and sick to her stomach all day, barely functioning on less than an hour of fitful sleep and worry over Quinn.

She’d been planning to have her production manager call in her understudy even if Quinn hadn’t agreed to see her tonight—she’s just not fit to perform in this state—but she’s so very relieved that she doesn’t have to sit in her apartment, staring at her phone and praying for Quinn to answer one of the dozens of messages she’d sent. Even so, Rachel doesn’t really know what to expect when she gets to Quinn’s apartment, and the uncertainty of it all is eating away her. She just wants to see Quinn—to hold her and talk to her face-to-face and hopefully undo the damage that Santana caused with her careless actions.

Her leg bounces anxiously as the taxi finally makes the turn onto Quinn’s street, and even before it’s fully stopped in front of the building, Rachel is practically throwing the money at the driver in her haste to get out of the car and get to Quinn.

**QUINN:** Kaitlyn looks toward Quinn’s closed bedroom door for what feels like the millionth time tonight. Her roommate definitely isn’t okay, and Kaitlyn has ridden out a few, short episodes with Quinn in the past, but it always tears at her heart.

Unfortunately, Quinn doesn’t seem to recognize that she’s beginning to slip into an episode. She usually doesn’t. Kaitlyn’s trying to respect Quinn’s desire for privacy and be patient, but it’s difficult.

Blue eyes flit toward her phone on the coffee table, checking the time. Rachel should be here any minute. Kaitlyn was both surprised and relieved when Quinn had come out to tell her that Rachel was coming over tonight. She’s choosing to take that as a positive sign.

**RACHEL:** She races through the lobby of the building and up the staircase that will take her to Quinn’s apartment, but she hesitates in front of the door for just a moment before she knocks. Her stomach is twisting with nerves at the uncertainty of what’s waiting for her on the other side.

Rachel takes a breath, pushing her hands through her hair as she mentally prepares herself for the possibility that Quinn’s encounter with Santana might have done real damage to all the progress she’d thought they’d been making in their relationship.

And then she lifts her hand to the door and knocks, waiting nervously at the threshold until it finally opens.

**QUINN:** Kaitlyn jumps to her feet the second she hears the knock and makes the short trip through the living room to open the door, revealing Quinn’s girlfriend.

Rachel doesn’t look much better than Quinn does. There are bags under her eyes and anxiety practically radiates off her.

“Hi, Rachel,” Kaitlyn says softly before offering her a small, reassuring smile as she steps back to let Rachel inside the apartment.

**RACHEL:** There’s a moment of disappointment when the door opens to reveal Quinn’s roommate and not Quinn, but Rachel pushes it aside and forces herself to return Kaitlyn’s kind smile as she enters the apartment.

“Hello, Kaitlyn,” she murmurs politely, but her eyes are already scanning the room for Quinn, and her weak smile disappears when she doesn’t see her.

Her questioning gaze connects with Kaitlyn’s warm, blue eyes. “How…how is she?”

**QUINN:** “Not well,” she answers honestly with a frown, keeping her voice low. She had texted Rachel a few times during the day, giving her small assurances that hardly allowed for a real, honest conversation.

In a way, she’s glad that Quinn hasn’t come out of her room yet, because Kaitlyn wants to give Rachel a more comprehensive update and hopefully provide some bearings before she goes in to see Quinn.

“I don’t think she slept much last night,” Kaitlyn explains after she closes the door, noticing Rachel’s lips curve down with worry. “She didn’t go to work today either. I suggested that she call her doctor, but I don’t think she did. I… haven’t had to call her doctor before, but I’m thinking I might have to,” she admits.

**RACHEL:** She feels sick at Kaitlyn’s revelation. Somehow, Rachel had managed to convince herself that Quinn was only sinking back into the belief that she wasn’t good enough for Rachel. But—

“You think she’s having an episode?” she questions fearfully with tears pricking at her eyes.

At Kaitlyn’s sad nod, Rachel silently curses Santana again, but she can’t escape the echo of her words—that Quinn’s issues will never disappear and Rachel will be dealing with it for as long as they’re together. And it looks like Rachel is about to get her first real taste of what that will be like.

“What do I need to do? How do I help her?”

**QUINN:** Kaitlyn feels her own affection for Rachel grow. She’s liked her since they first met, but knowing that she really wants to help Quinn and be here for her, it means a lot in Kaitlyn’s book.

“Just being here, supporting her, is probably the best thing you can do,” she replies, trying to reassure Rachel as best she can. “Quinn might say and do things that will upset you, but just remember that it’s not really her. It’s hard, but try not to take it personally.

“Usually her medication keeps things from getting too bad, but… something about this episode feels a little different to me,” she adds with a sigh. “This happened once before, right before we moved in together, when her dad-,” Kaitlyn cuts herself off, realizing she’s revealed a little too much. Quinn most likely hasn’t shared any of that with Rachel. “Which is why I think her doctor needs to know what’s going on.”

**RACHEL:** Her frown deepens at Kaitlyn’s brief mention of Quinn’s father. She feels like whatever it is that Kaitlyn had stopped herself from saying is something that Rachel should know, but she understands that it probably needs to be Quinn that tells her. Despite the fact that they’ve been together for months now, there are still so many things that Quinn hasn’t shared about her life or those years they spent apart.

Rachel wishes there was some script for her to follow—some tried-and-true trick to help pull Quinn back from the edge of whatever abyss she’s spiraling into—but there isn’t, and Rachel will just have to offer her unconditional love and support and hope it’s enough.

“I think I can handle whatever Quinn might say,” Rachel murmurs sadly. She’d had a few years of practice with some of Quinn’s more hurtful words and actions back in high school after all, and she wonders if Kaitlyn has any idea about their colorful past. Not that it matters. Rachel is good at managing her own hurt feelings and keeping her chin up in the face of adversity.

“Should I try to get her to call her doctor?” she asks worriedly. “Or do you think it would be better for you to just call?”

**QUINN:** “I think it would be better if Quinn makes the call, because then her doctor can actually talk to her, you know? If it was a true emergency, I wouldn’t wait, but Quinn’s not so bad that she’s a danger to herself.”

Rachel’s pained whimper cuts right through Kaitlyn. She feels bad for upsetting Rachel, but she needs to know where things stand.

“You should go see her now. Her door isn’t locked, and she said you could let yourself in,” Kaitlyn says encouragingly. “And I’m not going anywhere tonight, so if you need me for anything, I’ll be right here, okay?”

**RACHEL:** Nodding, Rachel offers Kaitlyn another strained smile as she reflexively reaches for her hand, giving it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Kaitlyn. I’m so grateful that Quinn has you in her life. I promise I’ll do what I can to get her to make that call.”

Kaitlyn returns the hand squeeze and Rachel’s gratitude, telling her how glad she is that Rachel is back in Quinn’s life. Rachel is glad for that too, but there’s a worrisome whisper in her head that’s beginning to question whether or not Rachel’s presence in Quinn’s life—or rather, everything that Rachel’s presence brings with it—might be doing more harm than good.

Kaitlyn retreats to the kitchen, and Rachel travels the short path to Quinn’s bedroom. She reaches for the doorknob and takes a deep breath before she opens it, cautiously slipping inside to find Quinn sitting on the floor next to her bed and looking incredibly young and vulnerable as she chews on her lower lip.

Rachel’s heart lurches, but she plasters on a tremulous smile. “Hi, baby.”

**QUINN:** She looks up at the sound of Rachel’s voice and tugs at the collar of her shirt, feeling a small spike of anxiousness at her girlfriend’s sudden presence.

“Hi,” Quinn replies quietly before biting her lower lip again as her gaze roams across Rachel’s worried face.

Quinn wants to reach for her, but instead her fingers only twist tighter in the fabric of her shirt, before she lowers her gaze back toward her lap.

**RACHEL:** “Oh, Quinn,” Rachel whispers brokenly, wanting nothing more than to fly to Quinn’s side and gather her up in her arms and never let her go, but she finds herself frozen to the spot.

She’s seen Quinn sad and scared before, seen her uncertain and shy, and she’s seen her angry and cold, but Rachel has never seen her quite like this, and frankly, the sight of her so disheveled and fidgeting almost uncontrollably splinters off another piece of Rachel’s battered heart.

She manages to get her feet moving, taking slow measured steps until she’s at Quinn’s side, and those anxious hazel eyes drift back up to her with such sad wariness that Rachel wants to cry. She sinks down onto the floor next to Quinn, and once she’s settled, she reaches out and carefully pries Quinn’s fingers from her shirt and tangles them with her own instead.

“I’m here, baby,” she promises. “I’m with you.”

**QUINN:** She grasps on to Rachel’s hand, holding it tightly, unwilling to let go. Rachel’s presence is a comfort, but it’s not enough to stop the torrent of negative thoughts and feelings—the overwhelming truth that she’s not worthy of it. That she’s not worthy of anything good.

“Don’t deserve you,” Quinn finally says, shaking her head and running her free hand over her face.

**RACHEL:** “You do,” Rachel insists, battling her tears. She needs to be strong for Quinn. “You deserve to be happy.”

Quinn shakes her head, sifting her fingers into her own hair and tugging at it. It hurts Rachel to see it, and she shifts beside Quinn, reaching out to snag her wrist until she’s tightly gripping both of Quinn’s hands.

“Quinn, baby, look at me,” she pleads. “Be here with me,” and she’s grateful when glistening hazel eyes reluctantly meet hers.

Not knowing what she should say, she can only tell Quinn, “I love you,” and hope it will be enough.

**QUINN:** “You shouldn’t,” she argues tearfully, but she can’t will herself to break free of Rachel’s hold—Quinn needs it somehow.

She needs Rachel’s touch, her comfort, her love. But there’s so much self-loathing and whispers inside her mind reinforcing every bad thought Quinn’s ever had about herself, and it tears at her.

**RACHEL:** A tear spills over her cheek at Quinn’s all-too-familiar response. Rachel doesn’t know what else she can do to make Quinn understand, but she’s beginning to realize that this is a conversation that they’ll probably be repeating for a very long time.

She’s so tired—so very tired and worried and lost—but she won’t give up on Quinn. She can’t. She refuses to lose her again—to lose her second chance to get it right.

“It’s too late, Quinn,” Rachel tells her solemnly. “I’m already committed to you…to us…and you know how stubborn I can be,” she reminds her with a sad smile. “You’re stuck with me, so please, baby. Please let me help you through this.”

**QUINN:** Quinn doesn’t say anything for a moment. She just grips tighter to Rachel’s hand as she presses her lips together, trying to reconcile her girlfriend’s words with the battle raging in her own mind.

“Okay,” she finally agrees shakily.

Rachel’s here, she wants to help, and she’s not going away. It’s a bit of a relief, but it’s still not enough to push out the wretched feelings plaguing her and the restless tension running through her body.

There’s more she thinks she should say to Rachel, but she doesn’t know how.

**RACHEL:** A soft sigh of relief slips past her lips at Quinn’s response. Rachel can see the conflicting emotions warring in Quinn’s eyes, and she knows they have a long way to go, but getting Quinn to stop trying to push her away is a step in the right direction.

Rachel offers her girlfriend a wobbly smile and squeezes her hands. “Good. That’s good,” she murmurs, releasing Quinn’s left hand so she can lift her own and gently brush Quinn’s hair away from her face.

“I want to be here for you,” she promises. “Maybe we could give your doctor a call too?” she suggests tentatively, thinking about what Kaitlyn had told her. “Would that help?”

**QUINN:** She shakes her head, hair falling back over her face.

“She can’t do anything,” Quinn manages to get out, feeling herself grow helplessly frustrated, rubbing her left hand over her thigh. “Don’t wanna talk about this with her again. And… and I already have medicine. I took it,” she promises Rachel.

**RACHEL:** She takes a deep, steadying breath as she studies Quinn. “I know you did, baby,” Rachel assures her, trying to decide how best to handle this situation and feeling hopelessly out of her element. “And I know you don’t want to talk about this with her, but I think you need to. She can help you work through this.”

Better than I can, Rachel thinks morosely.

She wants so badly to be enough to pull Quinn out of this, but she doesn’t even know all the details of Quinn’s past episodes or what had happened with her father or…anything really. Quinn has been trying so hard to protect her from the darker parts of her disorder that Rachel feels like she has next to no tools to help her now.

**QUINN:** Her brow furrows as she tries to consider Rachel’s words. She thinks Kaitlyn had said something similar.

Maybe… maybe they’re right, but Quinn doesn’t want to talk. It’s too hard right now.

“I can’t,” she replies, frustrated tears forming in hazel eyes. Quinn almost wants to ask Rachel to do it, but the idea makes her stomach twist as more negative thoughts flood her brain.

**RACHEL:** “Oh-okay,” Rachel breathes, fighting back frustrated tears. She has a feeling giving in to them would only make things worse for Quinn right now.

“Okay,” she repeats more firmly, shifting closer to Quinn on the floor and hoping that her nearness and her body heat might comfort her somehow.

Rachel isn’t giving up—she can’t—but she thinks maybe a tactical retreat to regroup might not be a bad idea. Kaitlyn is right outside, and Rachel can slip out and ask her to call Quinn’s doctor if she really needs to, but she’s still hoping that she might convince Quinn to do that on her own. Maybe she just has to ease into a little more slowly.

“Do you think you can talk to me for a little bit?” she asks, praying that she can steer Quinn into seeking out the help she really needs.

**QUINN:** Her mind is so steeped in cognitive distortions that talking about anything but is a tall task. But maybe… maybe that’s what Rachel wants her to talk about.

Quinn’s stomach churns again. She doesn’t like talking about these things. It doesn’t make her feel better.

“It’s like a—like a broken record,” she finally says a little jerkily. “My thoughts. And I don’t—why won’t it stop?”

She took her lithium today. She’s sure of it. At least, she thinks she’s sure.

**RACHEL:** She doesn’t know how to answer that, and it’s breaking her heart. Seeing Quinn like this is one of the most painful things that Rachel has ever had to deal with, and she’s never felt so impotent in her life.

“Oh, Quinn,” is all that comes out of her mouth as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s tense and twitching body.

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t know why this happened to you.” And Rachel hates that it did—hates that Quinn has to go through this.

“And I don’t know how to help you,” she admits tearfully, hating herself for it.

**QUINN:** She tries to relax into Rachel’s embrace, but she can’t, no matter how much she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says for the hundredth time, because she doesn’t know what else to say and because she means it.

She’s sorry that she’s like this, sorry that Rachel’s hurting because of it. She hates herself so much for so many reasons.

**RACHEL:** Stifling a sob, Rachel shakes her head. “I’m sorry, too, baby. I wish I knew what to do for you right now.”

She doesn’t have any idea what’s going on inside Quinn’s mind. “But I think your doctor might,” she says, feeling Quinn grow even more tense in her arms. “She can help you, Quinn. I need her to help you,” she begs. “Can we please call her?”

**QUINN:** Her brow furrows again as she chews on her lower lip, trying to process Rachel’s request—the need in her voice isn’t totally lost on Quinn.

She presses the backs of her knuckles into her forehead and, despite the unease roiling in her belly, Quinn thinks that she should call Dr. Herrara—if not for herself, for Rachel.

“Okay,” she agrees before swallowing thickly.

**RACHEL:** Relief courses through Rachel’s entire body when Quinn agrees to make that call. She has to believe that it’s a good sign.

“Okay,” she echoes gratefully, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “We can do this, Quinn,” she promises.

Quinn drags in an uneven breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she continues to press her fingers into her forehead—almost as if she’s trying to silence whatever thoughts are tormenting her.

With her heart aching at the sight, Rachel’s eyes dart around the room in search of Quinn’s phone. She finds it on the floor on the other side of Quinn, half-hidden by the runner on the bed, and she reluctantly releases her hold on Quinn so that she can reach across her body to grab it.

When she sits back up, it’s to find Quinn biting into her lip with her glassy gaze locked on Rachel. Rachel makes her best attempt at a supportive smile, knowing it’s probably wavering around the edges thanks to her own worry and fear.

“Here, baby,” she says, offering Quinn the phone. “I’ll be right here beside you.”

**QUINN:** She takes her phone from Rachel and tries to take a measure of comfort from her girlfriend’s support with little success.

Quinn’s left hand tightens around the phone as she attempts to scroll through her contacts, looking for Dr. Herrara’s cell number. Her doctor has said Quinn could call her anytime, but it’s not something she feels totally comfortable doing just yet.

Finally finding the number she’s looking for, Quinn hits the call button and presses her phone to her ear. Rachel watches her with anxious eyes, but Quinn can only stare down at her lap, once again rubbing the top of her thigh with her free hand as she gnaws on her lower lip.

After five rings, a familiar voice sounds on the other line, but Quinn soon realizes it’s her doctor’s voicemail greeting.

Closing her eyes, Quinn tries to focus on the words, even though she’s heard this recording before. Leave a message but call 911 if it’s an emergency.

“Hi, Dr. Herrara… it’s Quinn,” she says a bit stiltedly once the greeting is finished. “Quinn Fabray. I—um. I’m not feeling so well. Rachel and Kaitlyn thought I should call you. They’re both with me. Um, so, please call back.”

**RACHEL:** The relief that Rachel was feeling takes a nosedive when she realizes that Quinn didn’t get through to her doctor and has to leave her a message, and she twists her fingers together worriedly she watches Quinn disconnect the call. She tries to reassure herself that this is only a temporary delay in getting Quinn the help she needs. It’s after normal office hours, after all, and Quinn’s doctor could be driving home or eating dinner or on another call and will most certainly check her messages soon because she has patients like Quinn depending on her to be there when they need her, but that’s really doing nothing to make Rachel feel better.

After moistening her lips, Rachel carefully asks, “Does Dr. Herrara usually get back to you right away?”

**QUINN:** “Yeah,” Quinn replies unsteadily. “She’s… she’s a good doctor.”

And she is. So much better than the doctors Quinn had in New Haven and even the first one she had after moving to New Jersey.

**RACHEL:** “Good. That’s good,” Rachel murmurs gratefully.

She feels like she’s been on a rollercoaster for the last two days, getting flipped and turned and flung over the edge of a drop at a hundred miles per hour only to be jarred into a hard stop before hitting the station. She’s not quite on solid ground yet, but she’s close enough to feel the aftereffects of the ride slam into her, and she presses a hand to her churning stomach.

Quinn is still rubbing her palm against her thigh and clutching the phone and chewing her lip, and Rachel knows that what she’s feeling is nothing compared to whatever it is that Quinn is experiencing right now.

She’s forced to acknowledge that this episode is happening because of her—because her presence in Quinn’s life had brought Santana crashing back into it with her bitchy attitude and careless words.

Is it any wonder that Quinn hadn’t wanted Rachel to tell her friends about their relationship? But Rachel had wheedled and begged and pushed until Quinn had agreed, just like she always does when she wants something.

Tears spring to Rachel’s eyes unbidden as guilt rains down on top of her. “I’m so sorry for what Santana did,” she cries, praying that Quinn can forgive her. “I swear I’ll never let her come near you again!”

**QUINN:** She shakes her head. “No,” Quinn replies, tightening her grip on her phone and rubbing her thumb along the edge of its case. “Don’t—don’t be sorry. It’s… not-”

The words Quinn intended on saying die on her tongue as her phone rings and vibrates in her hand.

She briefly looks at the home screen to see that Dr. Herrara is calling her back. Quinn’s stomach flips a little, but she manages to swipe her finger across her home screen before answering with a tentative, “Hello?”

**RACHEL:** When Quinn answers her phone, Rachel brushes away her tears and draws in a steadying breath. Apparently Quinn’s doctor does check her messages quickly, and a small wave of relief washes over her at that.

Her own sense of guilt doesn’t diminish. She wants Quinn in her life so badly, but she never wants to make things more difficult for her. She never wants to become one of Quinn’s triggers. Quinn has told her so many times that she makes things better that Rachel had truly believed that to be the case, but now she’s not so certain.

She’s also not certain whether or not she should be here for Quinn’s conversation with her doctor, so even though she doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s side, she quietly asks, “Do you need me to go in the other room?”

**QUINN:** She shakes her head in response to Rachel’s question as she tries to pay attention to what Dr. Herrara’s saying.

“You said in your message that you aren’t feeling well,” her doctor says. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m- I’m really depressed,” Quinn replies, tugging at her hair again as shame floods her. “But I can’t stop fidgeting. It’s… uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says sympathetically. “Did anything happen to trigger you?”

“Last night, at work,” Quinn confirms, replaying Santana’s words over in her mind. “I had an… unexpected confrontation. I’m not—I took my medicine today,” she finishes, unable to hide her frustration.

“From the little you’ve told me, it sounds like you are probably having a mixed episode, and unfortunately, lithium doesn’t seem to have much efficacy in minimizing this type of episode.”

Quinn frowns, feeling absolutely helpless. “So what- what am I supposed to do?”

**RACHEL:** She can only hear Quinn’s side of the conversation, but it’s more than enough to make Rachel feel like someone is scraping her heart out with a spoon. The admission that she’s depressed and feeling uncomfortable is painful enough, but then she mentions her confrontation with Santana, and Rachel has to bite back a whimper as she wills herself not to start sobbing. She can’t risk distracting Quinn right now.

When Quinn frowns and asks her doctor what she’s supposed to do in such a hopeless voice, Rachel just wants to hold her. Instead, she reaches out to take Quinn’s hand, hoping she can at least offer some tiny bit of comfort to the woman she loves.

**QUINN:** She grabs hold of Rachel’s hand and chews on her lower lip as she awaits her doctor’s response.

“I’m going to call in a prescription for ziprasidone for you,” Dr. Herrara says. “It’s an atypical antipsychotic that I’ve found is most effective in treating mixed episodes, and the interaction with lithium is minimal.

“You’ll start by taking 40 milligrams tonight and another 40 tomorrow morning. Then tomorrow night, increase your dose to 60 milligrams, and if you’re tolerating that without any side effects, increase it again to 80 milligrams. Once you’re feeling better, then we’ll reduce the dosage.”

Quinn’s head practically spins with all the information coming through the phone, but there’s a tiny sliver of relief knowing that there’s something she can do.

“All this information will be on the label, don’t worry,” Dr. Herrara finishes gently.

“Okay,” Quinn replies, “Um. I can’t drive right now though.” Her car is still sitting in the parking lot at MetLife Stadium.

“Are Kaitlyn and Rachel still with you?”

“Yeah,” she affirms, looking over at her girlfriend, who is still watching her carefully.

“Could one of them get it for you?”

“I- yeah. I think so.”

**RACHEL:** Quinn nods at whatever her doctor is telling her before thanking her, and then she’s disconnecting the call. Rachel frowns because nothing she’d heard in Quinn’s responses seemed to indicate she was getting any kind of practical treatment.

“Wh-what did she say?” Rachel asks tentatively. “Does she want to see you? Do you have to wait until tomorrow?”

Rachel will call Quinn’s doctor herself if she’s stonewalling Quinn in her time of need!

**QUINN:** “She’s calling in a ‘script. I need someone—Kaitlyn—to get it,” she attempts to explain as she fidgets with her phone in her lap. “My doctor thinks I’m having a, um, a mixed episode.”

Rachel’s brow furrows as she takes in this new information.

“She said to call her back if… if I don’t feel better,” Quinn adds, hoping she won’t need to. She just wants to feel okay again, but right now it’s hard to imagine it happening even knowing “help” is on the way.

**RACHEL:** “Your doctor thinks this medicine will help you?” Rachel questions uncertainly. She doesn’t know exactly what a mixed episode is, but the effect it seems to be having on Quinn is devastating, and she frowns at the thought of Quinn needing to take more drugs than the lithium she’s already on.

Quinn nods jerkily, looking away, but not before Rachel sees the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Aching for Quinn and still drowning in her own guilt, Rachel lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the skin beneath Quinn’s knuckles. Quinn puffs out a breath, squeezing her eyes closed again as she grips on to Rachel’s hand tightly.

“Will the pharmacy call when it’s ready?” Rachel asks, uncertain how long it will take to get Quinn the relief she needs.

**QUINN:** It takes Quinn a moment to register Rachel’s last question, too focused on her girlfriend’s lips on her knuckles.

“They should,” she answers after a beat. “Always have before. I think… I think if Kaitlyn goes now, it will be ready when she gets there.”

Hazel eyes open then and gaze at Rachel uncertainly. “Could you… could you ask Kaitlyn to pick it up? Please?”

**RACHEL:** Still holding Quinn’s hand close to her own chest, Rachel attempts a comforting smile. “Of course I can do that,” she promises before dipping her head to press another kiss to Quinn’s knuckles. She can’t imagine Kaitlyn would refuse to make the trip to the pharmacy.

Rachel reaches out with her free hand to brush Quinn’s hair back from her face again before cupping her cheek. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Quinn nods and whispers an echoing ‘okay’ before Rachel reluctantly tears herself away from her girlfriend, pushing herself up off the floor and padding to the bedroom door. She pauses with her hand on the doorknob to glance back at Quinn, offering her another reassuring smile before she quickly slips out of the room to find Kaitlyn.

**QUINN:** Kaitlyn’s head pops up the second she hears Quinn’s door open, her blue eyes locking on serious brown.

“Any progress?” Kaitlyn asks, hoping beyond hope that Quinn was more responsive to Rachel.

Rachel offers her a nod, but it’s obvious that there’s not much confidence behind it. Kaitlyn can only imagine how difficult this much be for Rachel. Michael has always been a source of strength and support in her life—so the idea of being in Rachel’s position is that much more painful.

**RACHEL:** She’s grateful to see Kaitlyn right there just like she’d promised to be. It’s not that Rachel feels like she needs Kaitlyn to step in—though she’s admittedly heartsick and struggling with her own guilt and worry—but it’s reassuring to know that Kaitlyn really does care so much about Quinn that she’s here to watch out for her.

“She called her doctor,” Rachel informs her, and immediate relief fills Kaitlyn’s eyes. Rachel worries her lip for a moment before admitting, “She said Quinn’s having…um…a mixed episode,” and Kaitlyn nods, seeming to recognize the terminology.

“She’s calling in a prescription for some kind of medication.” Rachel shakes her head in sudden frustration. “I’m sorry…I didn’t think to ask what it is,” she realizes with a frown, “but would you be able to pick it up for her tonight?”

**QUINN:** “Of course,” Kaitlyn replies, wanting to do whatever she can to help her roommate. But there’s a measure of relief that comes at having a label to apply to what Quinn’s going through.

“The last time this happened to Quinn, she was between doctors, and I wasn’t sure what was happening,” she confesses. She leaves out the part about Quinn drinking, thinking that it won’t do much to help Rachel. “But the doctor she has now… she’s good. I have to trust that whatever she prescribed is going to help Quinn.”

**RACHEL:** Twisting her hands together, Rachel studies Kaitlyn. She supposes Quinn’s roommate has had more experience with Quinn’s condition than Rachel has at this point, and Kaitlyn is the second person to assure Rachel that Quinn’s doctor is good, so she supposes that she’ll have to trust that it’s the truth. It makes her feel a little bit better—about the medication at any rate.

“It…it’s just…really hard to see her like this,” Rachel admits quietly, shaking her head before she pushes her hands through her hair. She doesn’t tell Kaitlyn that she feels like this is her fault, but she’s afraid that Kaitlyn can see it in her remorseful gaze.

“I don’t know what else to do for her.”

**QUINN:** Kaitlyn offers Rachel a sympathetic smile. “I know how hard this must be for you,” she says, “but don’t blame yourself for whatever’s happening to Quinn. Remember, it’s mostly biological, okay? It’s beyond your control or Quinn’s control.”

**RACHEL:** “The logical part of me knows you’re right,” Rachel concedes, pressing a hand to her stomach, “but it was my so-called friend that triggered this episode,” she laments with a hitch in her voice, and she lifts a hand to wipe away a stray tear.

“I feel like I should have done something more to stop Santana from confronting Quinn, and I can’t do anything to make it better for her now except hold her hand and pray that whatever this medication is will help her.”

**QUINN:** “That counts for something, Rachel,” Kaitlyn tries to assure her. “There are times, like now, where things aren’t so great, but Quinn will get better. How long that takes depends on a lot of things, but I can promise you one thing: your support only helps.”

**RACHEL:** All Rachel wants is for Quinn to get better. An echo of Santana’s words plays in her head again—that this is the rest of her life—but Rachel quickly silences it, focusing instead on what Kaitlyn is telling her.

Quinn will get better.

And Rachel will be here to support her, because loving someone means loving all of them—being there for all of the bad times as well as the good. And the good times with Quinn—they’re beautiful and happy and everything that Rachel has ever dreamed of.

“Quinn will always have my support,” Rachel vows before offering Kaitlyn a thankful smile. “And you have my eternal gratitude for everything you do for her.”

**QUINN:** “You don’t need to thank me,” Kaitlyn replies, but she’s equally grateful that Quinn is with someone who won’t run when things get tough. “Quinn’s my friend.”

Rachel offers her another smile.

“I should get going though,” she continues, reaching for her purse and keys on the kitchen counter. “Hopefully, Quinn’s prescription will be ready when I get there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Rachel thanks her before slipping back into Quinn’s room, and Kaitlyn makes her way out of their apartment, hoping that whatever it is she’s picking up for Quinn will have her feeling better sooner than later.

**RACHEL:** She steps back into Quinn’s room with the hope that Kaitlyn will return with her medication soon, especially when she sees that Quinn is still there on the floor where Rachel left her, tapping the edge of her phone against her thigh with one hand while the other twists into her hair.

Hazel eyes dart up to Rachel’s when Quinn hears the door click closed, and Rachel answers the unspoken question in them. “Kaitlyn is on her way to the pharmacy.”

Quinn closes her eyes in relief, nodding silently, and Rachel contemplates sinking back down next to her, but—

“Um…do you…do you maybe want to move somewhere more comfortable than the floor?”

**QUINN:** She doubts that she’ll feel comfortable anywhere, so Quinn can only shrug in response to Rachel’s question.

“I guess,” she says, realizing it won’t really make a difference—too tense and twitchy to be comfortable even if she wants to be.

**RACHEL:** Leaning over, Rachel reaches for Quinn’s hand with an encouraging smile. “Come on, baby. Let me help you up,” she offers.

Quinn sighs, shuffling her legs on the floor until she gets her feet underneath her, and then she uses Rachel’s hand for support as she stands. She immediately starts to shift her weight from foot to foot, and her eyes dart around the room as she tugs on the hem of her shirt.

Rachel’s smile trembles around the edges as she takes in the signs of her girlfriend’s obvious discomfort, and in an instant, she’s wrapping her arms around Quinn.

“You’re going to be okay, Quinn,” she promises. “Kaitlyn will be back soon.”

**QUINN:** Quinn buries her face against Rachel’s neck and lifts her arms around Rachel’s back, fingers twisting in the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt.

Gentle hands run up and down Quinn’s back, and even though she feels like hell right now, there’s a bit of comfort that comes from having Rachel here with her.

**RACHEL:** She tries to soothe Quinn as best she can. Rachel can feel the relentless twisting of Quinn’s fingers in the fabric of her shirt, but for the moment, that’s the only fidgeting Quinn seems to be doing. She contemplates the practicality of simply standing here and holding Quinn like this until Kaitlyn returns, silently conceding that it’s probably not a viable option for either of them.

With a sigh, Rachel pulls back just a little and turns her head to press a kiss to Quinn’s temple, and Quinn’s grip on her tightens.

“Why don’t we lie down on the bed while we wait,” Rachel suggests hopefully. “I can hold you, and maybe…maybe you can talk to me a little bit more.”

**QUINN:** “Okay,” she agrees, but it’s more to the relocating to her bed part of Rachel’s suggestion, not so much for the talking part.

Rachel lets go of Quinn then, and she immediately misses the contact. Quinn tries to remind herself that she won’t be without it long. She just needs to get on the bed.

Quinn releases her death grip on Rachel’s shirt, and her girlfriend offers her an encouraging smile. Moments later, Quinn is lying on her side with Rachel curling herself around Quinn’s back. Her hands twist into the blanket beneath her, and she closes her eyes.

**RACHEL:** Sliding onto the bed behind Quinn, Rachel slips her arm around Quinn’s waist and presses her body as close to her as humanly possible. Despite the heaviness of the situation, Rachel’s lips curve into a small smile at the chance to be the ‘big spoon’ again. It’s only the second time she’s been able to be in this position, and neither time has been under happy circumstances, but she suspects that Quinn wouldn’t be letting this happen otherwise. She’d certainly want to be the one spooning Rachel.

Rachel brushes Quinn’s hair aside with her free hand before moving it into a more comfortable position, and then she ghosts a soft kiss to the skin on the back of Quinn’s neck, feeling Quinn shiver a little at the contact.

“You’ll feel better soon, Quinn,” Rachel murmurs, hoping it’s a promise to be fulfilled and not just wishful thinking.

**QUINN:** She lets out a shaky breath. It’s hard to imagine feeling better—she knows she’s been “better” before, but she can’t remember what it felt like.

And, honestly, if it weren’t for Rachel’s warm body wrapped around Quinn’s, she’d want to disappear forever right now.

Tears sting beneath Quinn’s eyelids then as she continues to be bombarded by thoughts hammering in the idea that she’d be better off dead.

But then… then, there’s a gentle hum and a soothing hand rubbing along Quinn’s upper arm, and she momentarily gets caught up in it.

**RACHEL:** She strokes her hand down Quinn’s arm, humming softly in the hopes that it will help to calm her down enough to maybe get some rest. Rachel has a feeling that Quinn probably got even less sleep than she did last night.

Her thoughts drift to what Kaitlyn had said about the last time this had happened to Quinn, wondering how bad the episode had been and how long Quinn had had to suffer before getting the help she needed.

Without even realizing it, Rachel’s humming takes on a specific melody, and when she finally recognizes the tune her brain had unconsciously supplied, her stomach flips over as old memories flood her. She wonders if Quinn has realized yet.

Before Rachel can consider if revisiting this particular moment from their past might do more harm than good, her humming transforms into a quiet serenade—one that’s familiar to them both.

“You’re not alone. Together we stand. I’ll be by your side. You know I’ll take your hand…”

**QUINN:** It takes a moment for Quinn to recognize the song that Rachel’s singing, but when she finally does, she can’t stop the tears from falling.

It’s not that the song makes Quinn sad. It’s just—there’s so much emotion bottled up inside her, and it’s impossible to hold it in.

It’s a mix of all kinds of things, but there’s a sense of gratitude in there—gratitude for Rachel’s presence, her comfort, and her love—even if Quinn still doesn’t believe she deserves one ounce of it.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s shoulders begin to shake as Rachel sings, and she wonders if she should stop. Quinn had cried the first time Rachel had sung this to her as well, but Rachel had always believed that the message she (and okay—all of their fellow glee-clubbers) had been trying to convey had made some kind of difference to Quinn. Even though Quinn hadn’t allowed Rachel personally to help her—and who can really blame her when Rachel had still been trying to steal Finn away from her at the time?—she’d at least seemed to feel more comfortable inside the sanctuary of their club and more receptive to the extensions of friendship being offered to her.

This time, Rachel intends to personally fulfill the promise in every word she’s singing, and she slides her hand down Quinn’s arm until she reaches her hand, fisted into the bedcovers beneath them. Rachel determinedly works her fingers between Quinn’s until Quinn is gripping her hand as tightly as she had been the bed.

Rachel’s voice trembles—just a little—with her own emotion as she softly sings the chorus, hoping Quinn will, “Keep holding on. ‘Cause you know we’ll make it through. We’ll make it through. Just stay strong. ‘Cause you know I’m here for you. I’m here for you,” she croons, squeezing Quinn’s hand as she moves her free hand again to comb her fingers comfortingly through Quinn’s hair. “There’s nothing you could say, nothing you could do. There’s no other way when it comes to the truth. So keep holding on. ‘Cause you know we’ll make it through.”

Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn’s shoulder, quietly speaking the very last line in resolute promise. “We’ll make it through, baby.”

**QUINN:** She doesn’t say anything—can’t say anything, really—when Rachel finishes singing, but Quinn holds on to Rachel’s hand, not letting go, as the tears continue to fall.

And even though it’s challenging right now, Quinn tries to trust in Rachel’s words—that they’ll make it through this. The future’s still so hard to think of without her current state obscuring it.

Instead, Quinn tries to focus on the warmth of Rachel’s body curled around her, gentle fingers sifting through her hair, and the occasional soft kiss against her shoulder.

**RACHEL:** Quinn is still crying, but the way she’s clinging to Rachel’s hand makes Rachel believe that she’s giving Quinn some kind of small comfort just by being here. It has to be enough for her. That’s the hardest part of all of this—well, the second hardest.

Seeing Quinn suffering is the hardest part—seeing Quinn suffering has always been so hard for Rachel, even in the days before they were friends—but knowing that there’s nothing productive that Rachel can do to make it better is right up there. They go hand-in-hand really.

Rachel won’t press Quinn to talk right now—she can’t—so she continues to hold Quinn and stroke her hair and press kisses to all the parts of Quinn that her lips can reach while they wait for Kaitlyn to return.

**QUINN:** She doesn’t know how long they lay together, tangled up on Quinn’s bed, but eventually her bedroom door creaks open, although she can’t bring herself to move.

“Hey, I’m back,” Kaitlyn says softly, and soon she’s coming into view, perching herself on the edge of Quinn’s bed.

Quinn glances up and sees her roommate holding a bag from CVS and a bottle of water.

**RACHEL:** Kaitlyn’s return with Quinn’s medication is a welcome relief, and Rachel reluctantly untangles herself from Quinn. As Rachel moves her arm, Quinn’s hand follows it back behind her hip before she eventually allows Rachel’s fingers to slip out from between hers, sniffling quietly.

“Thank you again for going to get that, Kaitlyn,” Rachel murmurs with a grateful smile as she sits up on the mattress behind Quinn.

With a gaze down at Quinn’s red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, she prays that the medicine will work quickly.

**QUINN:** Letting out a shaky breath, Quinn presses her hands against the mattress and slowly pushes herself up to sit.

Kaitlyn gives her a reassuring smile as she hands Quinn the bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Quinn sniffs as she takes it, the plastic of the bottle crunching beneath her grip. Frowning, she places it in her lap and fiddles instead with the cap, slowly twisting it off and on.

Rachel’s hand soon finds its way to Quinn’s back as Kaitlyn opens the bag, pulling out a bottle of pills and examining its label. “Okay, so it looks like these are 20 milligram capsules, and you’re supposed to take two of these tonight,” Kaitlyn explains before twisting the cap off, dropping a pair of blue-and-white capsules in her hand, and handing them to Quinn.

**RACHEL:** Rubbing Quinn’s back reassuringly, Rachel makes a mental note to check the pill bottle and read up on the drug information as soon as they get Quinn squared away tonight. She wants to know exactly what Quinn is going to be taking, the dosage and for how long, and any potential side-effects they should be worried about.

For now, she watches Quinn stare down at the pills with a small frown before she finally lifts her hand to her mouth and pops them inside, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle and taking a sip to wash them down.

Rachel doesn’t know how long it will take for the medication to take effect, but she’s planning on staying right here with Quinn for the rest of the night and into tomorrow, and if Quinn doesn’t show any signs of getting better, Rachel will make damned certain Dr. Herrara knows about it.

**QUINN:** Quinn settles back down on her mattress and clutches her water bottle to her chest, not knowing if but hoping this medicine will help.

Kaitlyn places the bottle of ziprasidone on Quinn’s nightstand before turning back to look at her. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers across Quinn’s forehead, moving messy tufts of hair out of the way.

**RACHEL:** “We will,” Rachel assures Kaitlyn on Quinn’s behalf, reaching down to rub Quinn’s shoulder. “I’ll be right here with her,” she promises.

Kaitlyn nods and offers a smile before bidding them both goodnight, and then she slips out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Rachel strokes her fingers through Quinn’s hair again as she gazes down at her. “I realize it’s far too soon for the medication to take effect, but how are you feeling?” she asks tentatively. “Do you need me to do anything for you?”

**QUINN:** She licks her lips and considers Rachel’s question. Quinn doesn’t feel any different than she did right before Kaitlyn gave her the new medication, and she honestly has no idea how long it will take to kick in. She hopes soon.

But that’s not the point of the question, now is it?

“Could you… could you sing for me, again?” she asks.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s request brings a small smile to Rachel’s face. “Oh, baby. Singing is something I can most certainly do,” she promises with a trace of humor in her voice, and the corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks just the tiniest bit.

Rachel slides down to once again to lie next to Quinn, brushing a kiss over her cheek before she shifts on the mattress and gathers Quinn into her arms. Dozens of potential songs fly through her mind in rapid succession, but it’s an old Pretenders song that pushes to the forefront, and Rachel decides to go with it, keeping it slower and softer than the original version.

“Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes. Come on and come to me now. Don’t be ashamed to cry. Let me see you through ‘cause I’ve seen the dark side too. When the night falls on you, you don’t know what to do, nothing you confess could make me love you less,” she sings with quiet conviction.

Just like her reprisal of “Keep Holding On,” Rachel means every word with all of her heart.

“I’ll stand by you. I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you.”

**QUINN:** Her body is still tense—muscles tight, jaw clenching, and fingers and toes curling.

But Rachel’s voice…

Oh, it’s such a soothing balm.

It’s not a cure.

Not a fix.

But it’s something.

It’s more than she could have ever hoped for. And more than she’s ever deserved.

**RACHEL:** After Rachel sings the last note, she kisses Quinn’s cheek again, running a soothing hand over her shoulder. Quinn still feels tense to her, but Rachel wants to believe she might be a little calmer. She really hopes the medication is working.

“Would you like me to keep singing?” she questions softly, willing to sing every song in her vast mental library if that’s what Quinn needs her to do.

**QUINN:** “Yeah,” she admits quietly. “But only… only if you want to.”

Rachel’s voice, it’s always had an effect on Quinn, and right now, it’s the thing keeping her mind from dwelling too much on the negative thoughts that have consumed her. And hopefully, the new medicine will kick in soon.

**RACHEL:** “Of course I want to,” Rachel promises her sweetly. She has so many songs she wants to sing for Quinn (and only Quinn)—serenades to express her love and devotion. Someday, when Quinn is feeling better again, Rachel would love to sing a few duets with her as well. She can remember how beautifully their voices had blended together during their one and only duet in high school.

“I love singing for you,” she murmurs, kissing Quinn’s shoulder. Quinn sighs and closes her eyes.

Rachel spins her mental jukebox, smiling a little as she begins to croon, “We’ll do it all. Everything. On our own. We don’t need…anything, or anyone. If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

**QUINN:** She wants that more than anything. Hearing Rachel sing those words means the world to Quinn.

And as Rachel continues to sing—continues to comfort her—Quinn feels her body start to relax ever-so-slightly. She can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel just yet, but Quinn hopes that’s where she’s headed, and she doesn’t know if it’s Rachel or the medication or both helping her do that.

**RACHEL:** “All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes. They’re all I can see,” Rachel sings, feeling the words as though they were formed from her very soul. And when those perfect eyes flutter open and gaze at Rachel—filled with such an aching mix of sadness and longing and love—she knows that what she’s singing is true.

Rachel cups Quinn’s cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. “I don’t know where. Confused about how as well. Just know that these things will never change for us at all.”

Even after all the years they’d spent apart and the losses that they’d endured in their lives, they’d found each other again. Things might be difficult right now, but Rachel knows that this is where she belongs. Maybe this is right where she’s always belonged, and they’d both had to take the longest, most painful road to get here.

“If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” she finishes softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of Quinn’s mouth

“Those three words really aren’t enough,” Rachel whispers, “but I do love you, Quinn. So much.”

**QUINN:** Hazel eyes briefly flutter closed as the emotion behind Rachel’s every word wraps around Quinn’s heart. She then lets out a quiet breath and opens her eyes once more to gaze up at Rachel.

“I love you, too,” she replies softly, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I… thank you,” Quinn says, also not knowing how to convey how much Rachel means to her, but so grateful that she doesn’t have to go through this alone.

**RACHEL:** “You don’t need to thank me, baby,” Rachel chastises gently. “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world.”

And it’s true. Rachel wonders how she’d managed to not fall for Quinn years ago—well, the years before Quinn had disappeared on her—but then she remembers Finn and knows exactly how. She’ll never regret loving him, but she can admit now that her feelings for Quinn had been a little too complicated for mere friendship even in high school, and she knows that things could have easily happened very differently if Finn had never joined the glee club—or if Rachel had been forced to acknowledge her bisexuality sooner.

She supposes hindsight really is twenty-twenty, but they’re here now. Together. And—

“I couldn’t be anywhere else.”

**QUINN:** She doesn’t know how or why, but Quinn doesn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. She’s just glad that, despite how sideways things got, Rachel is the most stubborn and loving person Quinn has ever known.

Little by little, Quinn’s body stops fidgeting and soon a wave of tiredness comes over her, although there’s still a good dose of melancholy and tension that lingers.

“Will you stay tonight?” Quinn asks, knowing that she’ll likely sleep better with Rachel by her side.

**RACHEL:** “Just try and get me to leave,” Rachel challenges with a slight grin, sifting her finger through Quinn’s hair again just because she can. She never had any intention of going home tonight. In retrospect, she probably should have thrown together an overnight bag before she’d left her apartment, but she’d been kind of distracted. And exhausted. She can feel that settling back in now that it seems like Quinn is starting to relax a little.

“I’m not going anywhere tonight, Quinn,” she promises, brushing another kiss over her cheek. “Except maybe over to raid your dresser for a comfy shirt I can borrow and then into your bathroom to freshen up.”

**QUINN:** There’s a measure of relief that comes at her girlfriend’s promise to stay the night.

“Whatever you need,” Quinn murmurs, her gaze moving from Rachel’s eyes to her mouth, and all the places in between. It’s like praying with her eyes. And Rachel has truly been a godsend.

**RACHEL:** Her breath catches at the way Quinn is looking at her, and the words ‘I need you’ dance on the tip of Rachel’s tongue—but this isn’t the time for that. Quinn is still too fragile, and they’re both too exhausted for flirtation. Still, Rachel can’t resist the need to capture Quinn’s lips again, kissing her softly and hoping Quinn can feel everything Rachel feels for her in the intimate caress.

**QUINN:** Her eyes slide shut at the feeling of Rachel’s lips against hers, and her heart momentarily feels lighter at the love Rachel pours into the kiss.

Moments later, their mouths break apart and Quinn looks at Rachel once more. Even though there is a ways to go until Quinn will truly feel better, it’s starting to feeling like she’s turned a corner and can see the light at the end of the tunnel—and Rachel will still be there.

**RACHEL:** Smiling down at Quinn, Rachel brushes back a lock of blonde hair, glad to see Quinn’s eyes looking just a little bit clearer.

“Try to get some rest, Quinn,” she murmurs. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”

At Quinn’s slight nod, Rachel slips off the bed and pads over to Quinn’s dresser, pulling open the drawer that she knows Quinn keeps some of her older t-shirts and sleepwear in. She hesitates for a moment as she peruses the selection, ultimately reaching for a soft green and white t-shirt bearing the Jets logo and a pair of plaid boxers.

She sends a quick glance back over her shoulder at Quinn to find her watching Rachel through sleepy eyes before Rachel steps out of the bedroom. Kaitlyn is still hanging out in the living room with the television on at low volume, and her head pops up when Rachel appears. “How is she?”

“She seems a little better,” Rachel tells her hopefully. “She isn’t fidgeting as much.”

Kaitlyn smiles in relief. “That’s good to hear.”

Rachel nods. “I’m staying with her tonight. I’m just going to use your bathroom to change.” She holds up the clothes that she’s commandeered.

Kaitlyn thanks her again, telling her she’s probably going to turn in soon as well, and Rachel slips into the bathroom. After heeding nature’s call, she changes into the borrowed clothes, pausing to lift the collar of the shirt to her nose to inhale the scent of fabric softener mixed with Quinn that still lingers on the material. It soothes her more than she can express.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth with ‘her’ toothbrush, Rachel heads back to the bedroom with every intention of watching over her girlfriend for the rest of the night. She has faith that everything will be brighter in the morning, but even if there are some shadows lingering, they’ll never chase Rachel from Quinn’s side.


	22. The Road To Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Monday, May 4, 2020**  
>  Quinn invites Rachel to a therapy session after her episode.

**RACHEL:** It's been a rough weekend.

Rachel typically looks forward to Mondays—to having a whole day to herself when she doesn't need to be at the theatre and, lately, when she can look forward to spending time with Quinn. She wishes she could say that she's looking forward to that today, but the circumstances taking her to New Jersey are less than ideal.

Quinn does seem to be feeling better after her episode on Friday. She'd fallen into a somewhat restless sleep that night in Rachel's arms, and she'd still been depressed and a little twitchy in the morning, but she'd seemed to gradually improve as she'd taken another dosage of the medication her doctor had prescribed.

Rachel had, of course, looked up all the potential side-effects of ziprasidone while Quinn had slept and relayed each and every one of them (and there had been many) to Kaitlyn, giving her firm instructions to watch for them in Rachel's absence. Kaitlyn had assured her that she would.

Leaving Quinn Saturday morning had been one of the hardest things that Rachel had ever had to do, but after missing her show Friday night, she couldn't afford to miss her weekend performances too. Quinn had urged her to go, assuring her she would be alright with Kaitlyn (even though she hadn't sounded quite as confident about that as Rachel would have liked) and reminding her of how disappointed all her fans would be if they couldn't see her as Andy. So Rachel had stayed with Quinn as long as she possibly could before reluctantly calling a taxi and instructing him to take her straight to the theatre. She'd barely made it there in time to throw on her costume and hit her cue.

Saturday's performances had been far from being her best—between her lack of sleep and her constant calls and texts to Quinn and Kaitlyn. She's so very grateful that Stephanie had been right there with her intuition and compassion to keep Rachel from completely falling apart. She'd taken one look at Rachel and had just seemed to know that her missed performance wasn't just due to a case of Rachel feeling under the weather, and she'd offered her shoulder up for Rachel to lean on.

Sunday had only been a little better in terms of Rachel's performances, distracted as she'd still been by checking in with Quinn, but Quinn had sounded close to her usual self when they'd talked before her evening show. That's when she'd told Rachel that she'd made an appointment with her therapist, Dr. Herrara, for Monday and had asked Rachel (reluctantly and obviously battling her own embarrassment and pride) to come with her. There was simply no way that Rachel could refuse.

And that's why she's on her way to New Jersey today.

It's not that she doesn't want to be there with Quinn—she absolutely wants to support her and finally have a chance to ask a professional what more she could be doing to help prevent Quinn's episodes—but she can't shake the worry that Dr. Herrara will confirm her worst fears and tell her that her very presence in Quinn's life is doing more harm than good. Rachel doesn't know what she'll do if that happens.

 **QUINN:** Quinn sits inside her idling car—having retrieved it yesterday from the MetLife Stadium parking lot—and waits.

Rachel's train should be arriving any minute now, except this time, she's not meeting Quinn in Bloomfield, but instead is going a few more stops into Montclair, where Dr. Herrara's office is located.

This past weekend was hell. Although, it certainly wasn't the worst that Quinn has ever experienced, and fortunately, starting the new medication when she did seemed to have helped her recover from that episode faster.

But even though Quinn's feeling better, relatively speaking, her body aches and her energy levels are lower than normal. There's also a measure of shame that lingers from Rachel having had to see that episode, and she feels guilty that it had a negative impact on Rachel's own well-being.

Quinn loves Rachel, and she wants this relationship to work, but not at Rachel's emotional and physical expense. After Quinn shared those fears with Dr. Herrara over the phone, her doctor suggested Rachel come with her today. It's a big step, and even though it's a little nerve-wracking, Quinn hopes that it helps them get on track.

 **RACHEL:** The train ride to Montclair takes almost an hour, and Rachel spends most of it willing her body to relax and her mind stop creating worst-case scenarios for how Quinn's session might play out.

It's not as if Rachel isn't familiar with therapy—she'd gone through years of it in her teens and again in college, when she'd needed numerous sessions to help her get through the aftermath of Finn's death, and then again after she'd had her first sexual experience with a woman—but she's been admittedly lax in keeping regular appointments since her breakup with Riley. Her last session had been in November, shortly after Quinn had come back into her life but before their relationship had turned romantic, so she should probably think about calling Dr. Hunter again. She can't keep relying on Stephanie to be her sounding board for all of this.

She certainly can't trust her other friends with her worries about Quinn. Maybe Blaine. He's been pretty understanding, and Kurt is trying, but Rachel can tell that he's still not convinced that Quinn is good for Rachel.

And Santana—well, that's just never happening now. Although Brittany had called Rachel on Friday and again on Saturday to ask if Quinn was okay, genuinely concerned about her. Rachel would like to believe that maybe Santana was also genuinely concerned and not just feeling guilty about the part she'd played in Quinn's episode, but Rachel just can't be certain.

Rachel's phone buzzes with a text from Quinn, letting her know that she's waiting at the station, and Rachel clutches it to her chest as stares out the window in an attempt to determine exactly where she is. The minutes drag by indefinitely before the train finally begins to slow, and Rachel is up and out of her seat long before it comes to a stop, making her way down the aisle to wait at the door. She needs to see Quinn and touch her and hold her and assure herself that Quinn is really okay.

 **QUINN:** Even though she's bone tired, the moment she hears the train's horn, Quinn is out of her car—her heart beating a little faster.

Short moments later, the train comes to a stop, and the second the doors open, Quinn spots Rachel, and the physical reaction to the sight of her girlfriend is instantaneous—a mixture of love, affection, gratitude, and guilt.

Even from a hundred feet away, Rachel looks both tired and anxious, and Quinn can't help but feel responsible. It's what keeps her rooted to her spot alongside her car despite wanting to wrap Rachel in her arms.

 **RACHEL:** Stepping onto the platform, Rachel glances around in search of Quinn. It takes a few seconds to spot her standing by her car, and Rachel's eyes drink in the sight of her. She looks tired and nervous, and Rachel's heart aches for her.

And then her feet are moving, taking her straight to Quinn until she can wrap her arms around her girlfriend and hug her tightly as she closes her eyes and breathes her in.

Quinn's arms slide around her back and hold her close, and for the first time in days, Rachel feels like she's standing on solid ground again.

Rachel would be happy to stay like this—in Quinn's arms—forever, but eventually, she pulls back just enough to study every line of her face, searching for any sign that she's still struggling.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, lifting a hand to stroke Quinn's cheek. "You haven't been experiencing any side-effects from the medication, have you?"

 **QUINN:** She briefly closes her eyes as Rachel brushes her fingers against Quinn's cheek, soaking in her girlfriend's gentle touch and genuine care. Rachel's support has really been a blessing through this latest episode.

Quinn's eyelids flutter open then, and she gazes into searching, brown eyes. "I'm tired," she replies honestly, "but the only side effects seem to be dry mouth and a slight headache."

The worry still lingers in Rachel's gaze.

"But I'm... I'm feeling a lot better, and you're a big reason why. I'm so glad you're here."

 **RACHEL:** Quinn's reassurances ease a little of Rachel's worry, and she feels her lips pull into a tiny smile. "I'll always be here for you, Quinn," she promises, even though that fearful voice in her head keeps whispering 'as long as I'm not making everything worse.'

Rachel forcibly shakes off the thought. Quinn keeps telling her that she makes it better, so Rachel is going to choose to believe her. And she does seem better now, and the smile on her lips as she gazes at Rachel is so very beautiful.

Cupping Quinn's cheek again, Rachel leans in and brushes a soft, chaste kiss over those smiling lips, offering a moment of sweet relief to them both before they have to see Quinn's doctor.

 **QUINN:** Her smile grows at the feeling of Rachel's lips against hers. Quinn is reluctant to pull away from Rachel's touch, but they really do need to get going if they're going to be on time for their appointment.

Letting out a soft sigh, she and Rachel get into Quinn's car, which is still idling. After putting it in drive, Quinn reaches over the console and grabs hold of Rachel's hand—needing that connection. Rachel's fingers instantly entwine with hers and give Quinn's hand a gentle squeeze.

The drive to Dr. Herrara's office takes less than five minutes from the train station, and as they turn onto Orange Road, Quinn can't stop herself from looking toward the elementary school on the right side of the street.

"That's where Beth goes to school," Quinn says softly.

And, God, Quinn hopes Beth never actually witnesses one of her episodes. She sometimes wonders if the close proximity of Beth's school—literally right across the street from her doctor's office—is a bad thing.

 **RACHEL:** Holding Quinn's hand across the console helps keep Rachel from fidgeting nervously during the short car ride. Supporting Quinn gives her something to focus on outside of her own culpability in contributing to Quinn's latest episode.

When Quinn points out Beth's school, Rachel turns her attention to the building with a vague smile pulling at her lips. She's glad that Shelby is allowing Quinn to have a relationship with her daughter. Rachel can see how very important it is to Quinn. She's only a little bitter that Shelby has never tried that hard with her.

Rachel has to admit that she's surprised when she realizes that Quinn is taking them to the building right across from Beth's school, but she decides not to ask her how exactly that had happened. It seems like a pretty big coincidence if it is one.

Soon enough, the car is parked, and Quinn glances at her with an anxious smile. Rachel reaches for her hand again and gives it another squeeze.

"I'm ready if you are."

 **QUINN:** "I'm ready," she answers, belying the nervous flutter in her belly, before letting out a steadying breath and releasing Rachel's hand.

They make their way inside the building, and Quinn leads her girlfriend down the hallway that leads to her doctor's office—the sound of the heels of their shoes clicking against the wooden floors reverberates off the walls, which seems to only increase her own anxiousness.

Much like when Quinn was recovering from her car accident in high school and attending physical therapy, sometimes her sessions with Dr. Herrara are painful, and Quinn really hopes this isn't going to be one of those times.

 **RACHEL:** She follows Quinn through the building to her doctor's office, taking in the pictures on the walls that are undoubtedly meant to be calming. Rachel wishes she could appreciate the effect.

The problem is that Rachel doesn't know what to expect from this session. Her dads had come to a few of her sessions with her when she was younger, but she's never been invited into someone else's session before. Apparently, Dr. Herrara seems to feel it will help Quinn, and Quinn and Kaitlyn have both assured Rachel that Dr. Herrara is a good at what she does.

So Rachel hovers just behind Quinn while she checks in with the receptionist, nervously waiting to meet Quinn's doctor and see what she has to say.

 **QUINN:** They're a little early, so it's no surprise when Dr. Herrara's receptionist tells Quinn that she's still in another session. Also, her doctor has a tendency to run late, but Quinn has learned that's not a bad thing—Dr. Herrara never rushes her patients out of the office and will always make sure everyone gets enough time with her.

Quinn turns to face Rachel then, taking in her nervous expression and attempting to offer her a reassuring smile.

"Dr. Herrara will tell us when she's ready," she explains, gesturing toward the pair of seats alongside each other and taking a seat in a familiar, grey chair.

Rachel nods and tucks her skirt underneath the backs of her legs before sitting down next to Quinn, and there's something so achingly familiar about it.

But before she can consider it further, the door to Dr. Herrara's office opens.

 **RACHEL:** She's barely had a chance to sit and attempt to relax before the office door is opening and a man with graying hair and a good bit of stubble steps into view. Behind him, a woman appears in the doorway.

She's not what Rachel had been expecting. She supposes she'd been picturing an older woman with graying hair and glasses, but Dr. Herrara is young—possibly in her late thirties—and very attractive with thick, dark hair and a warm smile.

"I'll see you next week, John," she says with a nod.

'John' thanks her as he leaves, his gaze only briefly catching on Quinn and Rachel as continues on his way.

Dr. Herrara's dark eyes find them as she steps further into the waiting area. "Hello, Quinn," she greets with a smile, gesturing toward her office. "You and Rachel can come on in now."

Quinn glances at Rachel, offering her a reassuring smile before she stands, and Rachel takes a deep breath and follows her, slipping past Dr. Herrara—who is a good three inches taller than her—as she enters the office.

 **QUINN:** Normally, Quinn sits in the oversized armchair during her sessions, but since Rachel is with her today, she settles down on the couch instead. Her girlfriend joins her a moment later, and Quinn sends her another reassuring smile. She can tell Rachel is still a bit nervous—so is Quinn—but the fact that she's making this effort? It means so much.

Dr. Herrara takes a seat across from them then before picking up the familiar steno book filled with notes from Quinn's sessions and placing it in her lap. She smiles warmly at them both, but she addresses Rachel first. "Thank you for coming today, Rachel," she says, which earns her an earnest 'of course,' and Quinn feels her affection for Rachel grow.

"How are you feeling, Quinn?" her doctor asks, turning her attention to Quinn.

The answer is still the same as when Rachel asked her at the train station—tired, dry mouth, headachy (and well, achy in general), but definitely better.

"It seems you're reacting pretty well to the medication overall, and we do have you on a high dose. I think those side effects should pass shortly. I want to keep you on it for a few more days and then start to taper it off. Does that sound okay to you?"

Quinn nods, thinking it seems reasonable enough.

Her doctor's warm gaze shifts to Quinn's left. "And how are you holding up, Rachel?"

 **RACHEL:** When Dr. Herrara's attention immediately shifts to Rachel, it takes her by surprise. She'd been expecting to sit and listen to Quinn talk for a little while—kind of get feel for Quinn's doctor—so her gut reaction is to tell the woman, "I'm okay."

Dr. Herrara only continues to gaze at her expectantly until Rachel shifts restlessly on the couch. Quinn's hand slides over to cover Rachel's where her fingers are curled into the cushion until Rachel finally admits, "I...I'm more worried about Quinn than myself. I just want to make sure she's okay."

 **QUINN:** Her heart warms at Rachel's words, but guilt gnaws at Quinn's belly.

"Your support means the world to me, Rachel," Quinn says, drawing her girlfriend's gaze to meet her own. "But I know this weekend was really hard for you, and I feel awful about that," she adds before glancing over at Dr. Herrara and reflexively saying, "I know, not my fault," even though she's still trying to fully believe that.

Quinn worries her lower lip before letting out a soft sigh and looking back toward Rachel. "I'm just afraid of how my... my illness affects you."

 **RACHEL:** Quinn's concern for her is as wonderful as it is heartbreaking, because Rachel feels like it's just one more stressor that she's adding to Quinn's life that might actually be making her illness worse.

Rachel turns her hand over beneath Quinn's touch and twines their fingers together. "I'm worried about how it affects you," she stresses. "How my...my presence in your life and...and everything that comes with it is affecting you."

Quinn frowns, looking like she wants to say something, but Rachel closes her eyes and shakes her head—she can't be looking at Quinn when she says this or she'll probably break down in tears. "If this weekend was hard for me, it's because I can't stop feeling like what happened to you on Thursday was my fault. And I'm so, so sorry, Quinn."

 **QUINN:** It breaks Quinn's heart to see Rachel blame herself for any of this.

"You don't need to apologize," she urges. "You didn't do anything wrong, and my episode... that's not your fault."

"Quinn's right," Dr. Herrara agrees. "Quinn has been doing very well recently and has been managing her bipolar, but sometimes there can be setbacks that are out anyone's control. And while the confrontation probably triggered her latest episode, it's important to remember that bipolar is a physical condition—no different than diabetes or high blood pressure—and that's no one's fault."

 **RACHEL:** Shaking her head again, Rachel turns to Dr. Herrara. "I understand that. I do," she insists. "But...but the confrontation that triggered her episode...that was because of someone I brought back into her life. That's what I feel responsible for."

Rachel might not have caused Quinn's episode directly, but it could have been prevented if she'd only been more diligent—or if she wasn't in Quinn's life at all.

"I'm like a...a candy peddler chasing after a diabetic and throwing chocolate at her until she goes into a hyperglycemic coma," she laments, clutching at Quinn's hand.

 **QUINN:** Quinn's lips curve further into a frown as her brow furrows and her stomach twists a little. Rachel makes things better—Quinn has told her that countless times—but it seems like Rachel's feelings about herself being good for Quinn aren't too different from the feelings she has about herself being good for Rachel.

Her own fingers tighten around Rachel's hand, not wanting her to slip away. Quinn wonders if that makes her selfish.

However, Dr. Herrara nods in understanding at Rachel's words before countering with, "There have been some bumps in the road since you crossed paths again, but from what Quinn has shared with me, you've been a great support, and that's what she needs... but not at your own expense."

Quinn swallows thickly, taking in Rachel's profile—how tired and guilty and uneasy she looks.

 **RACHEL:** She's obviously aware of the little setbacks that Quinn has suffered since Rachel had come back into her life, but hearing Dr. Herrara confirm it has tears stinging her eyes, and she lifts her free hand to brush one away. She desperately tries to focus on the other part—the support that she's given Quinn—because she needs to believe it's enough to make up for all the baggage that she's brought back into Quinn's life.

"I just want Quinn to be happy," Rachel admits, "and I don't want to...to bring any unneeded stress into her life. I'm trying to learn what she needs and...and what I can do to help, but I know the only thing I can really do is be there for her. It's just hard for me to remember that sometimes. I have a tendency to...to want things too much, but I'm working on that," she assures Dr. Herrara hastily.

She pulls her attention away from Quinn's doctor to look at Quinn, hating the worry and muted pain she sees in hazel eyes. "Because loving you is the easiest thing in the world," she promises, squeezing Quinn's hand reassuringly.

 **QUINN:** A watery laugh escapes her lips then. Trying to not love Rachel was the hardest thing the world... but now she doesn't have to stop herself. Still...

"I can't remember what it feels like to not love you, Rachel," she says, momentarily not caring that Dr. Herrara is sitting right across from them and gazing at Rachel intently. "And now that I've allowed myself to love you, I don't think I could bear to lose you. But... but I'd be willing to if it meant your happiness."

Rachel opens her mouth, looking as though she's going to interrupt.

"I know we've had this conversation before," Quinn interjects, "but we keep coming back to it one way or another... and, I think Dr. Herrara's perspective might help."

 **RACHEL:** "Do you not understand that being without you won't make me happier?" Rachel asks incredulously. The very idea of giving up Quinn feels impossible to her. Maybe she's just too selfish to even consider it.

"Of course I'm going to worry about you and want to take care of you. The same way I would if you had the flu or...or lost your job...or any of the other hundreds of things that go wrong in life. And I want to be there cheering you on and sharing in all the good things. That's what it means to be in a relationship with someone. I can't just...turn that off."

She glances back at Dr. Herrara with determined eyes. "I know what being with Quinn means," she vows, daring the woman to disagree.

 **QUINN:** There's a familiar relief at Rachel's words—Quinn can't turn that off either. But now Rachel's attention is back on Dr. Herrara, and Quinn shifts her focus, waiting to see how she'll respond.

"And I know that Quinn wants to take care of you," Dr. Herrara says gently after a beat. "That's why I asked her to invite you today—to make sure that you're doing what you need to do to take care of yourself so you don't burn yourself out. Do you have a therapist of your own?"

 **RACHEL:** Her little burst of indignant fire quickly burns out with Dr. Herrara's question. "I do, but it's been several months since I've seen him," she reluctantly admits.

Dr. Herrara smiles sympathetically. "I would recommend that you think about making another appointment with him," she urges.

Rachel knows that Quinn's doctor is right. After all, she'd considered doing that very thing on her way here today. "I will," she promise before glancing back to Quinn. "But one bad weekend isn't going to break me. It's just a...a bump in the road," she says, using Dr. Herrara's earlier words. "So you need to stop offering me ways out of this relationship, Quinn."

It hurts Rachel's heart every time Quinn tries to give her up for her own good.

 **QUINN:** "I will... I mean, I have," she insists. "But I want to make sure you're okay too. I... what happened this weekend sucked, but I've been a lot worse."

Rachel's eyes shine with sympathetic hurt, and Quinn momentarily closes her own eyes before pressing her lips together.

"Hopefully it never happens again," Quinn continues with a firm shake of her head, "but I can't promise it won't. And if it does, I need you to promise me that you'll take care of yourself too. Does that make sense?"

 **RACHEL:** "It does," Rachel acknowledges softly. She loves that Quinn wants to protect her, and she knows that she still needs to learn how to manage her own reaction to Quinn's episodes—to get past her sense of helplessness—but she believes that she can do better in time. And God willing, Quinn will never have to have another episode that's been triggered by something or someone that Rachel has unexpectedly thrown into her path.

Actually, God willing, she'll never have to have another episode at all.

"I promise to take care of me too," she vows as she squeezes Quinn's hand again, warmed by the answering smile on her lips.

Reluctantly pulling her eyes away from Quinn, Rachel looks back to Dr. Herrara. "Other than scheduling an appointment with my therapist, is there anything more I should be doing to help Quinn manage her condition?"

 **QUINN:** "You're already doing a lot of the things that help—supporting Quinn, loving her unconditionally, and you encouraged her to call me when she was in crisis," Dr. Herrara confirms. "But therapy sessions of your own, with your therapist, will be very helpful to help you find a balance in those times of crisis, which hopefully will be few and far between."

And by few and far between, Quinn hopes that means 'never again.'

"Once Quinn is completely recovered from her latest episode," her doctor continues, "I recommend you two work out a plan so that you are better equipped to deal with any future setbacks and also try to remember that they're not caused by you or anything you do, despite what you may think or feel."

 **RACHEL:** "I'll try," Rachel agrees, worrying her lip for a moment as her eyes dart over to Quinn again, "but I can't help being concerned that...certain people in my life," she says tactfully, thinking particularly of Santana, "will cause Quinn to keep having setbacks," she admits to Quinn's doctor.

"I mean, isn't it true that Quinn should generally avoid the things that will cause her undue stress and act as triggers?"

And no matter what Dr. Herrara and Quinn keep telling her, Rachel has, in fact, been the reason Quinn hasn't been able to avoid several of the ghosts from her past.

 **QUINN:** "While it's true that Quinn should try to minimize her stressors if possible, she doesn't live in a bubble," Dr. Herrara explains to Rachel, glancing at Quinn occasionally, "and part of what we've been working on in our sessions are techniques she can use that will help her when faced with certain potential triggers or less than ideal situations."

Quinn gently squeezes Rachel's hand as she turns to face her girlfriend again. Worried brown eyes gaze at her.

"For years, I've been trying to run and avoid unpleasant parts of my past," Quinn confesses softly, "but that's not really healthy because they still have a hold on me. I want to—I need to overcome that. And being with you is giving me the motivation to try and push through even though it's hard."

 **RACHEL:** What Quinn is telling her makes sense. After Finn had died, Rachel had been warned by her own therapist many times that she needed to face the loss and feel her feelings. She'd been given a different version of the same general advice—to face the truth and feel her feelings—after she'd had sex with Genevieve and immediately attempted to dismiss it as her required foray into theatrical experimentation.

"I really want to help you do that, Quinn," Rachel promises. "But I...I don't want what happened with Santana to happen again. That's," she pauses, shaking her head as she remembers all the times that she's urged Quinn to let Santana and Brittany and Kurt and Blaine back into her life.

"I understand now why you've been so reluctant to get involved with my friends again, so I want you to know, as much as I hope that one day you'll be ready to let them back into your life, I won't ever ask you to do that before you feel ready again."

 **QUINN:** She offers Rachel small, appreciative smile.

"I know you didn't mean any harm, and I promise that I will keep working with Dr. Herrara so that I can," Quinn vows before pressing her lips together, wanting to explain a little better, if she can.

"There's a part of me that really does miss Brittany and Santana, but I was trying to protect myself from Santana's anger because it—those kinds of confrontations usually send me to a place that I don't want to be in. Dr. Herrara thinks that might be because of..." she takes a deep breath, trying to push down her nerves, before finally admitting, "because of some things that happened in the past with my dad."

 **RACHEL:** Her stomach dips at the mention of Quinn's father. Kaitlyn had also brought him up on Friday in relation to one of Quinn's past episodes, but Quinn has yet to tell Rachel what had happened with him—other than him kicking her out of his house and disowning her when he'd found out she was pregnant at sixteen.

Glancing at Dr. Herrara again, Rachel finds the woman observing them patiently, and she licks her lips nervously before looking back to Quinn. "You...um...you've never really talked about him with me," she points out needlessly, knowing that Quinn is very aware of that fact from the way her pained eyes dart away guiltily. "Do you think you'll be able to soon?"

Because Rachel has a feeling that knowing what had happened with him will give her a better understanding of Quinn's most vicious demons.

 **QUINN:** "I've never really talked about him with anyone who hasn't been my doctor. I don't like talking about it," she explains, still not able to bring herself to look at Rachel. "But I... you should probably know."

Quinn closes her eyes briefly before reopening them and glancing at her doctor, who is looking at her encouragingly.

"But after..." she continues, gazing at Rachel then, "after I've fully recovered from this episode. It's a little too much right now."

 **RACHEL:** The idea of doing anything to send Quinn back into that dark place she'd only just clawed her way out of makes Rachel feel physically ill, and she squeezes Quinn's hand in reassurance. Learning more about Quinn's tumultuous relationship with Russell Fabray can wait a little longer.

"I completely understand, Quinn. I can wait."

Well—she can try to wait. Rachel is still working on the whole patience thing, but she knows how important it is for Quinn's sake.

"Whenever you're ready," she promises with a small smile—fully recognizing how often she says that to Quinn, but meaning it every single time.

 **QUINN:** Warmth spreads through her at Rachel's familiar words.

"Thank you," Quinn says softly, feeling her gratitude for Rachel grow. She gazes intently at Rachel for another long moment before Dr. Herrara gently interrupts.

"So it sounds like both of you have addressed your major concerns and have come to a better place of understanding," she says with a soft smile. "But do either of you have any other concerns or questions?"

 **RACHEL:** Her gaze slips away from Quinn at the interruption, and Rachel licks her lips uncertainly. All of the concerns she still has have to do with her ability to help Quinn through her episodes. Rachel supposes that the episodes themselves and what to expect from them are her biggest concern.

"The...um...the mixed episode that Quinn just had? That means she was experiencing depression and...um...manic behavior at the same time, right?"

"That's correct," Dr. Herrara answers. "Although Quinn's manic symptoms for this episode seemed to be limited to feeling hyper and experiencing racing thoughts."

Rachel nods, recalling Quinn's twitchiness on Friday mixed in with the more familiar feelings of worthlessness that Rachel is beginning to recognize as signs of Quinn's depression. She briefly glances at Quinn again, noting the flush of shame creeping back into her countenance, and Rachel begins to run her thumb in a soothing circle on the back of Quinn's hand.

"I think I have an idea of what to expect with her...um...her depressive episodes," Rachel relays, turning her attention back to Quinn's doctor, "but I'm not completely sure what to expect from an actual manic episode or...or what I should do for her if it happens."

 **QUINN:** She winces involuntarily in reaction to Rachel's query about what to expect during Quinn's manic episodes. She really, really hopes Rachel never has to see that.

"In Quinn's case, typically the early warning signs are that she'll start sleeping less and have an increase in energy. Her mood will elevate, but there's often an underlying restlessness, and if that goes unchecked, she can become irritable and aggressive," Dr. Herrara explains without judgment, but Quinn still feels her face flush with shame as she remembers some of the things she's done while experiencing mania.

"She might say things that are especially hurtful or do things that are reckless, but it's important not to take it personally. The good news is that you can help. I mentioned earlier that you should have an agreed upon plan in case Quinn shows signs of a relapse—things like working with Kaitlyn to take away car keys or credit cards, and creating a list of emergency contacts" her doctor continues, but Quinn still can't really bring herself to look at anything but her lap.

"When Quinn is feeling better, you can figure out the specifics, and if you want, you can both review it with me as well," Dr. Herrara finishes helpfully.

 **RACHEL:** She makes a mental note to keep Dr. Herrara's suggestions in mind for creating a plan with Quinn. She hadn't even considered the need to limit Quinn's access to certain things—like car keys—to keep her from getting into a potentially dangerous situation, but she knows she really, really should have. After all, it had been in the midst of a manic episode that Quinn had disappeared from her college dorm and nearly ended up...

It's still painful for Rachel to even think about that.

They will definitely need to coordinate a plan with Kaitlyn, though Rachel imagines that Kaitlyn and Quinn must have discussed some of those things already.

"Thank you, Dr. Herrara. Knowing what to expect really does help me feel more prepared." Her eyes dart back to Quinn almost guiltily, because she can see how uncomfortable this conversation is making her, but Quinn has been so hesitant to go into any detail about her episodes that Rachel couldn't very well pass up the chance to ask her doctor what to expect.

Dr. Herrara offers a warm smile, nodding. "What about you, Quinn? Do you have any other specific concerns you'd like to address today?"

 **QUINN:** She furrows her brow and considers Dr. Herrara's question. Her main concern is that Rachel makes sure to take care of herself, and Quinn is feeling more settled about that now. Granted, there's still a measure of shame that clings to her, despite the fact that Rachel and Dr. Herrara aren't judging her. Quinn doesn't know how to stop judging herself.

"Not that I can think of," she says after a moment. She's too tired and unwilling to bring up that subject in this session—not having the emotional energy to unpack that right now.

 **RACHEL:** Dr. Herrara nods again, accepting Quinn's answer, but as Rachel studies Quinn's face, she can't help feeling like this session—despite it's relatively mild nature—has still managed to exhaust her girlfriend, and she wonders if all of Quinn's concerns have really been satisfied.

"Does that mean that you're feeling better about my ability to handle everything that comes with loving you?" Rachel asks, because she really wants them to move past the point where Quinn's first instinct is to apologize for making Rachel deal with her illness.

 **QUINN:** "I am," she replies with a soft nod as she finally lifts her gaze to meet Rachel's. "I hope you won't have to deal with another episode of any kind, but as long as you're taking care of yourself... that's what matters to me."

Rachel nods as her mouth curves up into a relieved smile.

"I love you, Rachel, and I want you in my life," Quinn continues earnestly, "and I want to make you happy."

 **RACHEL:** She really hopes that Quinn never has to go through another episode, but realistically, Rachel has to acknowledge that it's more likely that there will be other setbacks that they'll both have to deal with together.

But, "I love you, too, Quinn. Having you in my life makes me happy," she vows with a tender smile. "And I promise I'll do everything I can to make you happy too."

Quinn's answering smile warms Rachel's heart, and she has to resist the urge to lean over and kiss her girlfriend—aware that Dr. Herrara is watching them. The poor woman probably feels like she's watching a very gay Hallmark movie, but Rachel means every word. She's committed to making sure she and Quinn both get their happy ending.

 **QUINN:** Rachel's words settle Quinn, and she feel so very lucky to have such an amazing woman as her girlfriend.

"We're almost out of time for today," Dr. Herrara says after a beat. "But I want to make sure I've addressed all your concerns before you go. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Quinn glances at Rachel, who shakes her head 'no,' and Quinn is in agreement. "I think we're okay for now," she replies.

Dr. Herrara nods. "Okay. As always, if anything comes up before our next session, please don't hesitate to call me, Quinn. And, Rachel," she adds, looking at Quinn's girlfriend and gesturing to the small table alongside the couch. "Please take one of my cards, and don't hesitate to call me if you have any additional concerns."

 **RACHEL:** After noticing the little business card holder at Dr. Herrara's direction, Rachel reaches over to take a card, smiling gratefully at Quinn's doctor.

"Thank you. I'll certainly call you if I need to," she promises, looking to Quinn as she gives her hand another squeeze.

"Are you ready to go?"

Not that Dr. Herrara hasn't been wonderful, but Rachel is more than ready to get out of here.

 **QUINN:** "I'm ready if you are," she confirms with a nod, curling her fingers around Rachel's as much as the space between them allows.

"I'll see you next week, Quinn," Dr. Herrara says, coming to her feet and walking the short distance to the door and opening it.

"Next week," Quinn echoes as she and Rachel both stand.

"Please call me if either of you need anything," she stresses again, and Quinn can't stop her lips from turning up into a grateful smile.

"We will," she replies before glancing at Rachel, wanting to make sure her girlfriend really is settled for the time being.

 **RACHEL:** Offering Quinn a nod, Rachel repeats, "We will."

Smiling, Quinn leads Rachel to the door, thanking Dr. Herrara again, and Rachel adds her own, "Yes, thank you," before following Quinn out of the office and back into the waiting room. Quinn nods at the receptionist as they pass by her, and then they're back in the hallway.

"So," Rachel begins hesitantly, "I think that went fairly well," she offers hopefully. "How are you feeling about it?"

 **QUINN:** Hazel eyes shift toward the portrait at her right at Rachel's question. It's a modern, abstract painting of a jazz saxophonist, made up of only blue, yellow, and red paint.

"Good, I think," Quinn answers before looking away. "All things considered, that is."

There's still an underlying sense of unease, but it has nothing to do with Rachel or the appointment with Dr. Herrara. It has everything to do with Quinn and all the things that are wrong with her.

 **RACHEL:** She frowns a little at Quinn's conditional answer before reminding herself that she's still recovering from her episode. Rachel lifts her hand - the one that's not still gripping tightly to Quinn's - to stroke her fingers over Quinn's cheek, gently urging hazel eyes back to hers. She can see the exhaustion that she feels reflected back at her, and she wonders if Quinn has been sleeping as poorly as she has been these last two days.

"Do you still have a headache? I was thinking we could get something to eat, but...if you need to get some more rest today, you could...you could just take me back to the station," she reluctantly suggests, not really wanting that at all but willing to give Quinn the opportunity for some alone time if she needs it.

 **QUINN:** She nods faintly. Headaches have been ever-present for days now, but she doesn't know if it's from lack of sleep, her medication, or her low moods. And she really doesn't have much of an appetite right now, but...

"I still have a headache," Quinn confirms, "but... I... can you stay?"

 **RACHEL:** Relief floods Rachel at Quinn's invitation. Rachel really didn't want to have to leave her just yet.

"Always," she promises softly, letting her lips curve into a reassuring smile. It's Monday, after all, so, "I can stay until tomorrow if you want me to."

I can stay forever, she thinks—though she knows it's still far too early in their relationship to consider that seriously.

What she does say is, "I'm all yours."

 **QUINN:** 'Please stay forever,' is Quinn's immediate thought, but despite it all, the words don't actually pass through her lips.

Regardless, her body sags with relief. "I'll take you wherever you'd like for lunch—Holsten's, some other restaurant, or my apartment. Kaitlyn bought some fresh mozzarella and grilled eggplant last night," Quinn says, hoping the latter is enough to entice Rachel back to her apartment.

She needs it. She needs Rachel to stay with her for as long as possible, and Quinn hopes she can offer a kind of comfort in return.

 **RACHEL:** She can see the relief in Quinn's expression at her promise to stay, but it doesn't erase the weariness there. Rachel has the distinct feeling that Quinn isn't really up to sitting in a restaurant, and now that she really thinks about it, she's not sure that she is either. Being alone with Quinn sounds so much better.

"The eggplant sounds wonderful," Rachel assures her. "I can cook for you if you'd like," she suggests, not wanting to make Quinn go through the work of preparing a meal if she isn't feeling well enough. "Eggplant parmesan? Or I know a recipe for grilled eggplant with mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil."

She lifts her hand to brush back a strand of Quinn's hair, grinning. "Whatever you feel like."

 **QUINN:** Her lips quirk up into a half smile. "Truthfully, I'd like to go home... and I know that whatever you make will be delicious," Quinn says.

Rachel could just make Quinn apple slices with peanut butter on them, and that would be more than enough right now. All she wants is to be in a relatively quite calm with her girlfriend.

 **RACHEL:** "Then your apartment it is," Rachel agrees with a loving smile. She closes the small distance between them and brushes a soft kiss over Quinn's lips - not caring that that they're standing in the middle of a public hallway where anyone could walk past them at any given moment. She just really needs to feel that little bit of physical and emotional connection with Quinn after everything they've been through in the last few days.

Quinn sighs against her lips, kissing her back briefly before Rachel slowly pulls away with a grin, quietly urging her to, "Take me home, Quinn."

 **QUINN:** It's nothing short of a small wonder to hear those words pass Rachel's lips.

'Home' has always been something fleeting to Quinn, but the way Rachel says it makes Quinn feels like it's something more lasting. Like it's 'theirs.'

"Okay," Quinn breathes against Rachel's lips, gazing into warm, brown eyes. "I'll take you home."

 **RACHEL:** For a brief moment, Rachel lets herself imagine that Quinn's home is hers as well—one that they've made together. Being with Quinn is worth the little inconvenience of a train or taxi ride, but she can't deny how much nicer it would be if they lived in the same city.

But more and more, anywhere Quinn is feels like home to Rachel.

Smiling at Quinn, Rachel nods her agreement. "Let's go," she prompts, readjusting her hold on Quinn's hand as they begin to walk back to Quinn's car.

 **QUINN:** Savoring the warmth of Rachel's hand inside hers, Quinn lets Rachel lead the way, feeling like a tremendous weight has been lifted.

She knows they still have a ways to go, but for the first time since she started calling Rachel her girlfriend, Quinn truly accepts that being in a relationship with her is what will ultimately make Rachel happiest. But part of that is being more willing to open up and stop trying to protect Rachel the uglier parts of her past. It's daunting but... Rachel is definitely worth it.


	23. Perfect Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Monday, May 25, 2020**  
>  Quinn and Rachel spend Memorial Day down the shore, getting some much-needed relaxation.

**QUINN:** Quinn walks barefoot across the white sands of Long Branch beach, enjoying the sensation of warm sand between her toes. It’s a beautiful early summer morning. The sun is still fairly low in the sky, but feels wonderful against her skin, and the sound and smell of the not-so-distant ocean waves serves as a soothing balm.

It doesn’t take long to find an open patch of sand—the perfect place for Rachel and Quinn to set their things down for the day. Hazel eyes take in the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean and pale pink lips curve up into a soft smile.

For the first time in three weeks, Quinn feels like herself again.

She turns her head to look at her girlfriend, curious about what the bathing suit under the blue cover-up she’s wearing looks like, but mostly just happy to be able to spend the day with Rachel relaxing on the beach. “How’s this?” she asks, wanting to make sure Rachel agrees with her choice of location before setting down her things.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s soft query pulls Rachel from her mindless enjoyment of their surroundings. She’s so happy the weather is finally taking a hard turn into summer, and she’s more than ready to soak up the sun and relax on the sand with her girlfriend at her side. And she might also be really looking forward to seeing Quinn in her swimsuit.

Rachel hasn’t had the pleasure since their glee club had had the brilliant idea to sing “We Found Love” while attempting a highly questionable synchronized swimming routine in the McKinley High swimming pool—never mind that it had been partially her idea. In any case, the vintage-styled swimsuits had been cute but modest, and Rachel hadn’t yet experienced her sexual awakening to fully appreciate all the ways that a more revealing cut would have certainly flattered Quinn.

Beneath the dark lenses of her sunglasses, Rachel lets her gaze briefly travel over Quinn in appreciation, taking in the casual sexiness of the oversized green t-shirt that’s almost falling off a shoulder and the fraying denim cutoffs teasing the tops of smooth, muscled legs. She can’t wait to see what Quinn has on underneath.

Lifting a hand to her sunglasses, Rachel slips the frames down her nose just enough to reveal her eyes as she makes a show of thoroughly perusing the patch of sand that Quinn has picked out for them. One blonde eyebrow arches up in amusement at her drawn-out inspection, and Rachel suppresses a grin.

“I suppose it’ll do.”

Hazel eyes roll at the blasé answer, but there’s no disguising the happy sparkle in them after so many weeks of shadows, and Rachel smiles at the sight.

**QUINN:** They make quick work of setting up their beach chairs before Quinn gets to work on anchoring the umbrella into the sand—not wanting a gust of wind to knock it over. Having grown up in Ohio, trips to the beach like this never happened, and it was only last summer that Quinn finally figured out the best way to do so.

She begins by digging out handfuls of sand, creating a hole half a foot into the ground, before placing the umbrella’s anchor and twisting it further down. Quinn packs it up and then opens the umbrella, casting a pleasant shade behind their chairs should they need a break from the sun.

Satisfied that it will stay put, Quinn wipes her hands together to brush the remnants of sand off them before reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her shirt and tugging it up—revealing a simple, white one-piece bathing suit—and she swears she can feel Rachel watching her.

That fact is confirmed the moment Quinn pulls her shirt over her head and finds brown eyes roaming over her body appreciatively, and Quinn can’t stop the playful smirk that graces her lips.

**RACHEL:** After enjoying the play of muscles in Quinn’s arms as she’d anchored their umbrella, Rachel is treated to the far more enjoyable vision of Quinn stripping away her shirt to show off her swimsuit. She’s only a little bit disappointed that it isn’t a bikini, but the white material molds her torso like a second skin and shows off a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, so Rachel certainly isn’t going to complain—especially when she’d also opted to leave her bikinis packed away for this particular excursion. She simply hadn’t wanted to even take the chance of triggering Quinn with a glimpse of her tattoo so soon after she’s recovered from her last episode.

Rachel’s lingering gaze doesn’t falter in the face of Quinn’s knowing smirk. She isn’t about to miss the rest of Quinn’s little striptease as nimble fingers work open the button of her cutoffs and slowly tug down the zipper before she shimmies out of the shorts.

And oh—“That’s a very nice suit,” Rachel murmurs appreciatively, tugging her lower lips between her teeth as she blatantly rakes her eyes over Quinn’s perfect body.

**QUINN:** “Glad you approve,” she replies, feeling a thrill at having Rachel look at her like this—her gaze unabashed and filled with desire. Quinn is equally looking forward to seeing Rachel’s choice of swim attire, but first…

“I am going to need your help with something though,” Quinn says before gently biting her lower lip, reaching down into her beach bag, and taking out a bottle of sunscreen.

**RACHEL:** Her brow furrows in confusion for just a moment as Quinn reaches into her bag, but the bottle of sunscreen brings everything into focus. Rachel’s mouth goes dry even as her fingers begin to tingle in anticipation.

“Mmm. Yes. Proper skin care is extremely important,” Rachel declares, stepping closer to Quinn with a playful smirk of her own. Lifting a hand, she ghosts her fingertips over the fair skin on Quinn’s right shoulder. “We wouldn’t want you to burn.”

**QUINN:** Her skin tingles pleasantly under Rachel’s light touch, and a small shudder goes through her at the sound of Rachel’s voice.

Quinn hands the bottle of sunscreen over to her girlfriend, enjoying the way Rachel’s fingers brush over hers during the transfer, before grabbing loose strands of blond hair and twisting them up to give Rachel a clear path to work—eager to feel her girlfriend’s hands on her bare skin.

**RACHEL:** She happily takes the sunscreen from Quinn’s hand, admiring the length of Quinn’s exposed neck as she lifts her hair away and turns around to give Rachel unfettered access to her back and shoulders. The swimsuit cuts low enough to offer a tantalizing view, and Rachel delights in gazing at as she opens the cap on the bottle and squirts a generous dollop of the cool lotion into her palm.

She sets the bottle on Quinn’s beach chair for the moment and dips her fingertips into the lotion before spreading it across the skin between Quinn’s shoulder blades. Her girlfriend shivers a little at the first touch, humming in approval as Rachel’s hands gently work the lotion over her skin. The faint scent of coconut tickles Rachel’s nose, and she thinks how positively delicious Quinn smells right now. She’s like sunshine and summer personified.

Quinn leans back into her touch ever-so-slightly, sighing in pleasure, and Rachel bites into her lip as her hands drift a bit lower, dipping just beneath the edges of Quinn’s suit where it clings to her lower back to ensure that she’s thoroughly protected.

Rachel moves her face closer to Quinn’s ear, inhaling more of that coconut scent as she does.

“Should I do your legs next?” she wonders softly, considering how indecent it might look if she drops to her knees in the sand and runs her hands between Quinn’s thighs. “Or your chest?”

Either way, she hopes there aren’t any hawk-eyed Broadway fanatics with cameras nearby, or she might become famous for something other than her unparalleled talent.

**QUINN:** Rachel’s hands feel like heaven as she spreads the sunscreen along her back and shoulders, and Quinn practically purrs with pleasure.

But Rachel’s question combined with the sensation of warm breath against her neck has Quinn barely stifling a moan as a heat pools low in her belly at the thought of those talented hands on her chest and legs.

“As much as I would love for you to continue,” Quinn manages to say, despite how dry her mouth has suddenly gotten, “I should probably take care of that. But,” she continues turning her head to look at Rachel as she drops her hair, letting it spill down her shoulders, “I would be very happy to return the favor.”

**RACHEL:** She’s mildly disappointed that she has to stop touching Quinn, but the prospect of having Quinn return the favor is more than adequate compensation. And with any luck, Rachel will be able to touch all those parts of Quinn later on tonight that she can’t touch while they’re in public. She doesn’t have a show tonight, after all.

“I’m sure you would,” Rachel teases, taking a reflexive step back as Quinn turns around to face her once again. “And so would I,” she admits with a grin, curling her fingers around the hem of her cover-up—a loose dress style that falls just above mid-thigh—and pulling it up and over her head in one, fluid motion to reveal the black one-piece swimsuit beneath.

She tosses it onto the beach chair before quickly running her hands over her hair in the hope of smoothing down any messy, fly-away strands, and she watches hazel eyes move up and down her body. Quinn catches the corner of her lips between her teeth, and Rachel hopes that means she approves.

**QUINN:** There’s an odd sense of relief that comes from seeing Rachel in a one-piece rather than a bikini, but the overwhelming emotion coursing through Quinn at the sight of her girlfriend in her bathing suit is desire.

She lets her gaze linger on Rachel’s legs for a few moments before lifting her eyes back up and over those wonderful curves. “You look… amazing,” Quinn says. The word feels a little lacking, but it’s all she can come up with.

**RACHEL:** No matter how many times she hears Quinn say things like that to her, Rachel still feels her old friends the butterflies go crazy inside her stomach. She unconsciously presses a hand there now to calm them, smoothing over her suit.

She barely resists the urge to tug at the material around her hips and breasts. It might be a one-piece, but it dips a little low on top and rides a little high on the bottom, and as much as she was hoping for sexy and sophisticated, Rachel can’t seem to stop that initial moment of doubt that she managed to pull off either one. But the look on Quinn’s face and the way her eyes are glittering with what looks like desire do a fabulous job of quashing any lingering reservations about her choice of suit.

“So do you,” Rachel responds with a shy smile. “Whatever regime you follow with the Flight Crew is obviously working wonders.”

**QUINN:** Rachel’s compliment sends a rush of warmth through Quinn, and her gaze automatically lifts to meet Rachel’s. The look on her girlfriend’s face has Quinn’s lips curving up into a soft smile.

“You’re sweet,” she replies, still smiling as she reaches down to retrieve her bottle of sunscreen. “Do you need any?” Quinn asks, hoping the answer is yes, even though she suspects Rachel might not actually need it considering her complexion.

**RACHEL:** “If you wouldn’t mind,” Rachel says demurely as she turns, glancing back over her shoulder to hold Quinn’s gaze. “One can never be too careful when it comes to ultraviolet protection, after all.”

And she absolutely isn’t about to miss out on the chance to feel Quinn’s hands on her body, so she mirrors Quinn’s earlier position by pulling her hair up and away from her shoulders, eagerly awaiting Quinn’s touch.

**QUINN:** Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Quinn takes a moment to appreciate the contours of Rachel’s upper back and the smooth lines of her shoulders. She squirts a large dollop of sunscreen onto her palm before dropping bottle onto her chair so she can use both hands.

After lightly rubbing her hands together, Quinn presses her palms against Rachel’s shoulder blades before sliding them up and over her girlfriend’s shoulders. She takes her time, wanting to savor the experience of touching Rachel. Slowly, Quinn works her hands up and down Rachel’s back, slipping her fingers inside the edges of fabric to make sure her girlfriend’s skin is adequately protected.

And then her hands are traveling up again to Rachel’s shoulders, rubbing the rest of the lotion in. Quinn takes a step closer, letting her warm breath wash over the back of Rachel’s neck as her fingers brush against the top of Rachel’s collarbone. “All done,” she murmurs.

**RACHEL:** Her eyes fall closed as she savors the sensation of Quinn’s hands on her back. The sun is warm on her skin, and the scent of coconut from the sunscreen mixed with the smell of the ocean has her entire body melting into bliss—and into Quinn’s touch. Rachel would happily stand her and let Quinn work her magic all day, but all too soon, her fingers brush against Rachel’s collarbone as her massage comes to an end and her breath tickles the back of Rachel’s neck.

Sighing, Rachel opens her eyes and turns around slowly as she lets her hair fall back down over her shoulders. “For now. I might need a touch up later though,” she warns with a grin, stepping further into Quinn’s space and brushing her fingers along Quinn’s arm. She really can’t resist a little playful teasing. “You know…if I get too…wet.”

**QUINN:** She can’t stop the soft moan from escaping her lips at Rachel’s words—her mind flooded with all kinds of erotic images involving her girlfriend, ranging from drops of ocean water dripping from her skin to far more sinful thoughts.

“Whatever you need, Rach,” Quinn promises with a playful smile, but there’s definitely an underlying promise there.

Over the past few weeks, in the aftermath of Quinn’s latest episode, she and Rachel have continually upped their flirting. The teasing is fun, but also a relief. It means things between her and Rachel are heading in the right direction, and the comfort and contentment Quinn experiences with Rachel is beyond compare.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s promise thrills Rachel. It isn’t strictly a sexual thing—though the flirting is very enjoyable—but it’s the knowledge that Quinn truly wants to make certain that Rachel is getting everything she needs in this relationship. She can’t remember the last time she was with someone so attentive to her. That’s one of the reasons it’s so very easy for Rachel to reciprocate.

“I’ll be certain to let you know all of my needs,” Rachel promises huskily, rocking forward to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Quinn’s lips.

She pulls back with a smirk at the sound of Quinn’s tiny moan. “So, what should we do first?” she asks gleefully, completely shifting from siren to excited beachgoer in the blink of an eye. “Go for a swim? Play in the sand? Or just relax and soak up the sun?”

**QUINN:** All too soon Rachel’s lips are no longer on Quinn’s, and she decides right then and there that when it comes to teasing, she loves being on the end of it when it’s Rachel dishing it out. But the back and forth is still so much fun.

“While all of those sound great, especially playing in the sand,” Quinn replies with a lascivious grin as she retrieves her bottle of sunscreen and settles down onto her beach chair, “I think we should ease into the day.”

**RACHEL:** “Easing into the day sounds just fine to me,” Rachel agrees.

After the extra stress of Quinn’s episode a few weeks ago and the normal stress of her performance schedule, Rachel has been desperately in need of a day away from ‘real life’ and the hustle and bustle of the city. So she happily sinks down into her chair next to Quinn and kicks off her sandals, sinking her toes into the hot sand.

Next to her, Quinn begins to diligently apply a generous amount of sunscreen to her legs, and Rachel is content to watch her unabashedly. She’s absolutely certain that Quinn is aware of this fact by the way she takes her time with the task, flexing the muscles in her leg and letting Rachel get a good view of her calves and thighs. And then she’s moving on to her chest and—oh, it certainly is all about the teasing, isn’t it?

**QUINN:** She wonders if she’ll ever get used to having Rachel look at her like this, but she kind of doubts it. Those dark eyes raking over her legs and chest, much the way Quinn’s hands currently are, have Quinn’s body thrumming with pleasure.

They haven’t overtly talked about it, but Quinn is finally feeling ready to make another attempt at consummating her relationship with Rachel. This morning is doing nothing but convince her of how badly she wants to do that.

**RACHEL:** When Quinn finally moves on to her arms, Rachel manages to stop—well, reduce—her leering and force her gaze back to Quinn’s face. There’s a sexy, little grin on her lips that makes Rachel both want to kiss her and know exactly what it is she’s thinking about right now. Of course, were she to take a guess, she imagines that Quinn is probably mentally plotting out the many and various ways that she can continue to tease and tempt Rachel until Rachel is putty in her very skilled hands.

Oh, would she love for Quinn to work her body with those very skilled hands.

Clearing her throat, Rachel moistens her lips and takes a deep breath of the fresh, seaside air as she glances away from the gorgeous view of her girlfriend to the much less gorgeous view of the ocean.

“This is a nice beach,” she comments, determined to tame her lustful thoughts until they’re alone somewhere private. “I’ve never been here before.” Her eyes drift back to Quinn. “I usually end up at Jones Beach on Long Island.”

**QUINN:** “I’m glad you like it,” she replies with a relieved smile. “I first came here with some girls from the Flight Crew, and since then, it’s always where I seem to end up when I need a beach day.”

Long Branch Beach really is the perfect spot for a day trip. It’s a little less than an hour south of Quinn’s apartment, and there are lots of great restaurants and shops along the beach.

“I’m really glad we were able to find time to do this,” Quinn continues. There’s nothing better than getting a chance to share the things she enjoys with Rachel and vice verse. “And hopefully we can go to Jones Beach some time… I’ve never been.”

**RACHEL:** “I’ll have to take you someday,” Rachel agrees. “Although I’ll be making you drive,” she warns with a grin. “It’s a mess of subway transfers and buses to try to get there without a car, so whenever I do manage to find the time, I’ve sweet-talked my friends with cars into taking me.” Her smile slips slightly, because those friends have mostly been Santana and Brittany – or Rachel’s ex, Riley – and she’s definitely not mentioning any of those names to Quinn today.

Licking her lips, Rachel shakes off the unpleasant thought only to be confronted by another. “I wish I could sneak in a few more weekends to spend with you like this.” Although they have managed a few mornings and afternoons on the occasional Sunday when Courtney is scheduled to take her matinee performance, it never feels like enough time. Rachel smiles a little wistfully. “Or that every holiday fell on a Monday.”

**QUINN:** “Me too,” she agrees with a soft sigh.

Quinn wishes she could see Rachel every day, but that’s just not possible right now, so she savors every second she does get to spend with her girlfriend. The future isn’t something Quinn likes to focus on too much, but there are times where her thoughts go there anyway and she can’t help but wonder where things with Rachel will eventually lead and what it could mean for both of them.

**RACHEL:** She can’t help noticing the thoughtful expression on Quinn’s face—that and the soft sigh—and Rachel suddenly worries that maybe Mondays and stolen hours on weekend mornings aren’t enough for Quinn. A pensive frown pulls at the corners of her lips.

“M-maybe…in a few months,” she begins, licking her lips nervously, “after my contract extension is up, we could…um…get away for…for a week or two? Take a vacation somewhere?”

Rachel holds her breath, hoping that she’s not being too presumptuous in thinking that far ahead.

**QUINN:** Warmth blossoms in her chest at Rachel’s suggestion, but it’s tempered somewhat by the obligations Quinn has on the horizon. In a few months, the football season will be starting, not to mention school. But the idea of getting to spend a week straight with Rachel…

Quinn bites her lower lip thoughtfully, wanting to find a way to make it happen. “A vacation sounds wonderful,” she says after a beat. “But two weeks isn’t really doable with my fall schedule,” she continues with a frown. “One week, maybe. The Jets have a bye at the end of October. Midterms should fall right before that, so maybe then?” she finishes hopefully.

**RACHEL:** A smile blooms on Rachel’s face. “My last show will be at the end of September, so that sounds perfect.” Her smile dims just a little. “Well, I’ll be unemployed, so that obviously isn’t ideal, but I really could use a little break from the stage.” Between the initial workshop, the second workshop, the rehearsals, the previews, and the past year on Broadway, “I’ve been playing Andy for close to two years.”

She’ll miss the character, of course, and seeing Stephanie everyday and hearing the applause from the enthusiastic audiences, but she needs to move on to something new if she wants to stay relevant and ever have another chance at that Tony award.

**QUINN:** “I doubt you’ll be unemployed for long,” Quinn assures Rachel, earning her a sweet yet almost humble smile that never fails to make Quinn’s heart sing.

“But before some lucky casting director snatches you up,” she continues, “we should definitely take advantage of your break. Any ideas for a vacation spot?”

**RACHEL:** Rachel’s heart swells at Quinn’s unwavering belief in her talent and inevitable success. She’s so happy to have someone so firmly in her corner when it comes to her career—someone she doesn’t need to compete with but who still understands how vital performing is to Rachel and the demands it places on her time.

Quinn really is the very best cheerleader.

“Well, since whisking you away to Paris would require much more than a week to make it worthwhile,” she muses with a flirtatious grin, “I think I’ll be happy just to spend time alone with you.”

Quinn’s smile grows soft and dreamy as she gazes at Rachel.

“It really doesn’t matter where we go. I’d be just as content to lounge on a beach somewhere with you,” Rachel points out, gesturing to their current surroundings, “as I would sightseeing in Boston or acting like kids in Disneyland,” she adds, smiling playfully.

“Is there anywhere you’ve always wanted to go?”

**QUINN:** All of Rachel’s suggestions sound absolutely wonderful.

“Hmm, besides Paris?” Quinn replies with an easy smile of her own. “London. And the Alps—I’d love to go skiing in the Alps one day.” She wriggles her toes in the sand then, not really willing to imagine cold weather considering her current surroundings.

“Disneyland could be fun,” she says. “I’ve never been to California before, and maybe we could get some beach time in too.”

**RACHEL:** “I’ve never been to California either,” Rachel reveals, “but my dads did take me to Disney World in Florida one summer when I was in middle school.” She smiles at the memory. “I think they probably regretted that after I spent the next month singing “It’s A Small World” on repeat. I even learned a verse in Spanish to make it more authentic,” she adds, proud of the accomplishment.

Quinn laughs at that, shaking her head as her eyes twinkle in fond amusement.

“I’d definitely like to visit Disneyland with you.” Rachel can already imagine how magical it will be to walk through the park, hand-in-hand with Quinn in their matching character shirts and mouse ears. She eyes Quinn thoughtfully, wondering if she’s more the classic character type or the Disney princess type. Oh well, she has plenty of time to find out.

“And with any luck, someday we’ll get to visit all the places in Europe we both want to see. Although, I’m not too sure about the skiing part,” Rachel admits with a frown. “I can’t afford to fall down and break my talent.”

**QUINN:** She laughs again, but she recognizes Rachel’s genuine trepidation and wants to abate it. “You won’t,” Quinn assures with a warm smile. “Not only am I good teacher, but I’m sure your talent will prevail.”

And she means it. She’s never met anyone quite like Rachel, and despite not being the most athletic girl in the world, Quinn thinks that if Rachel can at least learn the proper fundamentals of skiing, she’ll be just fine.

But that’s neither here nor there.

“But Disneyland sounds great,” Quinn says, reaching over to intertwine her fingers with Rachel’s. “Let’s do it.”

**RACHEL:** While the idea of having Quinn teach her how to ski does have a certain appeal – mainly the image of Quinn all bundled up in her ski clothes with her hands on Rachel’s hips as she instructs her on proper technique – Rachel still isn’t convinced. Luckily, most of those ski lodges have lounges and hot tubs and hot chocolate to occupy her time while Quinn tackles the slopes.

But first, sunny California and the happiest place on earth.

Grinning, Rachel nods her agreement as she squeezes Quinn’s hand. “Yes. Absolutely. I can’t wait to start researching hotels and planning the perfect itinerary.”

They’re going to have so much fun. But mostly, Rachel is just so excited to have something to look forward to sharing with Quinn. It makes her feel like they they’re planning a future together.

**QUINN:** “I’m sure it will be perfect,” she agrees with a soft smile, still keeping hold of Rachel’s hand. Rachel has always been an excellent planner. Quinn… not so much. She’s happy to let Rachel take the lead, although, of course, she’ll help out if need be.

It feels nice having a vacation like that to look forward to, but this moment right now on the beach—soaking up the sun, listening to the crash of ocean waves, having warm sand between her toes and Rachel’s fingers intertwined with hers—well, it’s pretty close to perfect. Quinn is determined to savor it.

**RACHEL:** Sighing happily, Rachel continues to gaze at Quinn for a long moment, admiring the way the gentle ocean breeze plays with her golden hair and the sun casts an ethereal glow on her skin. She’s so incredibly beautiful, and Rachel feels so lucky to be with her. Sometimes, she still can’t quite believe that they ended up here.

“Today feels pretty perfect too,” Rachel muses, content just to relax at Quinn’s side for the rest of the day.


	24. Bursting Into Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Monday, May 25, 2020**  
>  Quinn and Rachel’s perfect day turns into a perfect night.

**RACHEL:** It really has been a perfect day. There’s a smile on Rachel’s lips that just won’t fade, especially when every glance at Quinn reveals a similar smile. She loves seeing her girlfriend like this—totally relaxed and happy.

They’d spent the better part of the day on the beach, soaking up the sun and playing in the surf, and Rachel had discovered that her girlfriend is a very graceful swimmer, but that really doesn’t surprise her. Everything Quinn does is graceful—like gliding out of the ocean with water rivulets dripping down over her skin and her white swimsuit clinging to her body.

That body is currently covered up once again with her t-shirt and cutoffs, but she’s no less gorgeous with her casual appearance, windblown hair, and sunkissed skin.

As the sun had fallen lower in the sky, they’d gathered up their belongings and toted them back to Quinn’s car, stopping for a dinner of healthier fare than the greasy foods sold by the beachside vendors before finally arriving back at Quinn’s apartment.

Rachel is a little sad to see the day come to an end, but it’s not quite over yet. She’s got her overnight bag in hand, and Kaitlyn is staying with Michael tonight, which means that she and Quinn have the apartment all to themselves.

She’s really looking forward to spending the evening in Quinn’s arms.

**QUINN:** “Home sweet home,” Quinn announces as she pushes the door to her apartment open, gesturing for Rachel to go in first.

Her girlfriend smiles at her as she goes, and Quinn feels her own contentment grow—lately home feels more like home when Rachel is here. And after such a wonderful day, Quinn hopes tonight will be just as good.

“Do you want to take a shower first?” she offers after closing the door and locking it behind her.

**RACHEL:** “A shower sounds wonderful,” Rachel admits, wanting to wash the residue of sand, sunscreen, and sweat off her body before she cuddles with Quinn.

A soft body rubbing against her leg has her bending down with a with a smile to greet Piazza with a scratch behind her ears. “Hello, cutie-pie,” she coos softly before turning her attention back to Quinn.

“Are you sure you don’t mind letting me go first?” she asks, stopping herself short of suggesting they share. She’s not entirely certain Quinn is ready for that kind of intimacy when they still haven’t actually made love yet.

**QUINN:** “Not at all,” she insists, smiling softly at the sight of Piazza’s eyes closing in contentment as Rachel continues to scratch behind her ears. Rachel’s affection often leaves Quinn feeling much the same way.

“Do you want me to make you some tea for when you get out of the shower?”

**RACHEL:** “Tea sounds nice,” Rachel decides, giving Piazza one last stroke before she straightens. “The black tonight, I think,” she adds, stepping closer to Quinn. “You know how I like it,” she says playfully, lifting a palm to gently stroke Quinn’s cheek before brushing a quick kiss over her lips.

Rachel grins at Quinn’s little hum of pleasure as she pulls back.

“I promise I won’t be long.”

**QUINN:** She’s still feeling the effects of Rachel’s kiss even after her girlfriend disappears into the bathroom. Grinning to herself, Quinn sets her bag down before heading into the kitchen. She puts a kettle of water on the stove and pulls a blue mug down from the cabinet, placing it on the counter.

Piazza meows behind Quinn then, and Quinn turns her attention to her roommate’s cat. “Yes, I know you’re hungry,” she murmurs sweetly, retrieving the box of dry cat food from the cabinet beneath the stove and refilling the empty bowl of food.

Quinn scratches Piazza behind the ears affectionately as she begins to eat. She then straightens herself and returns her attention to the task of making tea. But she can’t help but think ahead to the conversation she knows she needs to have with Rachel soon about her tattoo.

**RACHEL:** She’s not unfamiliar with the shower in Quinn’s apartment. Rachel has used it a few times since they’d started dating. It’s roomy with good water pressure, and every time Rachel uses it, she imagines what it would be like to have Quinn in here with her. And every time, she has to remember that Quinn is just outside the bathroom waiting for her. It’s sweet torture.

She resists the urge to linger under the hot spray, focusing instead on washing her skin and hair as quickly and efficiently as possible. Shutting off the water, Rachel steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, carefully drying her body before she slips into the red athletic shorts and comfy _The Devil Wears Prada_ t-shirt that she’d brought with her to lounge in tonight.

She gathers up her discarded clothes and shoves them into her bag, taking an extra few moments to brush her teeth, and then she pads out of the bathroom to let Quinn have her turn.

**QUINN:** She’s just finishing pouring steaming water over the tea bag in Rachel’s mug when she hears the bathroom door open. “Perfect timing,” Quinn says with a soft smile, placing the kettle back on the stove before turning to look at her girlfriend.

Quinn’s teeth catch her lower lip as she takes in the sight of a freshly-showered Rachel in her sleepwear, and sweet Jesus, does she look good—simultaneously pulling off the sexy and cute combination. She wishes she didn’t need to shower because all she wants to do right now is take Rachel into her bedroom.

**RACHEL:** “Well, of course,” Rachel responds cheekily, gliding into Quinn’s space. “Perfect timing is kind of a requirement in my field.”

Quinn laughs at that, gazing at Rachel with affection, and Rachel can’t resist rocking up onto the balls of her feet and kissing her beautiful girlfriend again. Quinn’s lips part against hers, and Rachel sinks into the kiss for a long moment before she reluctantly pulls herself away, playfully smacking Quinn’s very fine ass.

“The shower’s all yours,” she announces with a grin, slipping out of Quinn’s arms—and ignoring her adorable pout—as she glances at the counter.

“Are you having tea too? I can keep the pot on warm until you’re ready.”

**QUINN:** The pout remains firmly on her lips as Quinn tries to process Rachel’s question despite the desire that’s spiked up from her girlfriend’s talented mouth and playful hands.

“No tea for me,” Quinn replies after a beat, her voice a little huskier than usual. “There’s only one thing I want once I’m ready, and that’s more of your kisses.”

She sends Rachel a sexy half-smile before turning on her heels and strutting toward the bathroom, loving the feeling of dark eyes on her.

**RACHEL:** Well, damn. Rachel has half a mind to forget her tea and follow Quinn into the bathroom, offering up as many kisses as she’d like.

Biting into her lower lip, Rachel shakes off the lustful notion and turns her attention to her tea, noticing that Quinn had already gotten out the sugar and a spoon and placed it next to her mug. After stirring in a spoonful of the sugar, Rachel takes her tea over to the sofa and settles down to wait for Quinn.

Piazza jumps up next to her almost immediately, letting out a little mewl as she determinedly maneuvers her way onto Rachel’s lap. Laughing, Rachel sinks her fingers into the cat’s soft fur once again and gives into her silent demands for attention.

“You should know,” she warns, “as adorable as you are, as soon as Quinn comes back, my hands will be otherwise occupied.”

Piazza doesn’t seem to care, only pushing her head more firmly into Rachel’s touch as she begins to purr. Rachel grins, wondering how quickly she’ll be able to make Quinn do the same thing.

**QUINN:** Hot water sprays against Quinn’s back, and it does nothing to temper her libido. Not that she really wants that, but Quinn knows there’s a very important conversation that needs to happen before they take things any further.

It’s something Quinn has been working on resolving ever since their utterly spectacular failure of an attempt at consummating their relationship all those weeks ago.

But despite the nerves that have crept up—and logically, Quinn knows there’s nothing to worry about, but that doesn’t change how she feels—she’s ready.

She loves Rachel and she needs to show her how much.

**RACHEL:** Between the tea, the cat on her lap, and the very comfy sofa cushions, it doesn’t take long at all for Rachel to feel incredibly relaxed. She closes her eyes for just a moment and smiles to herself as she replays her afternoon with Quinn.

They’d had fun together, in and out of the water, and for a while they’d just sat together and watched the people pass them by, critiquing bathing attire and laughing at the antics of some of the children running up and down the beach.

Rachel hadn’t failed to notice the number of appreciative looks that Quinn had gotten in return from men and women alike. Even though it had roused a little of her insecurity, she’d also discovered that it tickled her pride—because Quinn was there with her.

And in a few minutes, Quinn will be freshly showered and back in her arms, and Rachel will be able to show her how very much she loves her and how proud she is to be with her.

**QUINN:** After toweling off, Quinn brushes her teeth before throwing on a black tank top and a pair of gray sleep shorts. She gives herself a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure she looks okay before making her way back into the living room.

Rachel turns her attention toward Quinn, and she doesn’t miss the appreciation in her girlfriend’s eyes as she gazes at Quinn, and it makes her feel warm all over.

“You look like you’re very comfortable,” Quinn observes with a small grin. “Do you want to hang out on the couch or…” she nervously licks her lower lip, “or do you want to go to my room?”

**RACHEL:** If the tea hadn’t already done a good job of heating Rachel up from the inside out, the sight of Quinn in her shorts and tank top with damp hair and glowing skin would get the job done incredibly quickly. And the way Quinn is looking at her when she mentions her bedroom—

“I can be very comfortable in your room,” Rachel answers quickly, her body already buzzing at the thought of slipping into bed with Quinn and exploring how much further they can take their intimacy tonight.

Quinn laughs lightly at the eagerness of her answer, eyes sparkling as she holds out a hand to Rachel.

“Sorry, Piazza,” Rachel says apologetically, glancing down at the cat as she gently nudges her off her lap. “I just got offered a much more desirable cuddle buddy.”

**QUINN:** Piazza reluctantly climbs down from Rachel’s lap as Rachel takes hold of Quinn’s hand. Gently helping Rachel to her feet, Quinn curves her palm around her girlfriend’s, savoring the connection.

But with every step closer to her bedroom, Quinn feels her nerves creep up ever-so-slightly. She refuses to let that deter her though. Her desire very much outweighs the lingering trepidation of making herself vulnerable.

After crossing the threshold of her bedroom, Quinn offers Rachel a questioning smile, hoping her nerves aren’t showing. “Do you want me to put on some music? Or would you rather I load Netflix on my computer?”

**RACHEL:** “Well, I do always love to put on a movie and not watch it with you,” Rachel teases with playful grin, “but the music would be nice too.” She gently squeezes the hand that’s still firmly connected to hers. “I think I’ll let you choose tonight.”

Quinn’s comfort is Rachel’s number one priority, especially when it comes to deepening their level of physical intimacy. As much as Rachel wants to tackle Quinn to the bed, strip her naked, and keep her there for at least a week, she also doesn’t want to risk any repeats of what happened on Quinn’s birthday, so she’s decided to keep practicing that patience that she’s been working on and let Quinn set the pace.

“I’m happy just to be here with you,” she promises Quinn with a tender smile.

**QUINN:** _How did I get so lucky?_ she wonders for the hundredth time, matching Rachel’s tender smile with one of her own as she gently squeezes her hand. “Music it is,” she affirms before reluctantly letting go of Rachel.

Briefly turning her attention to her computer, Quinn pulls up a playlist she’s been working on for longer than she would ever admit, simply titled “My Star.” The first track that starts playing is Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars,” and as the guitar intro echoes through her speakers, Quinn turns back to face Rachel, who is now laying on the bed and gazing up at her with what Quinn can only describe as adoration.

**RACHEL:** While Quinn turns her attention to her computer, Rachel decides to make herself comfortable on the bed, sinking into the mattress with a soft sigh before her eyes stray back to her girlfriend. After a moment, the speakers from Quinn’s computer fill the room with the sounds of _their_ song.

Even though Rachel’s serenade had occurred under less than wonderful circumstances that she’d honestly rather not dwell on, every word had come straight from her heart, and she immediately feels the same overwhelming sense of love and devotion that she’d felt when she’d been holding Quinn in her arms and singing this song to her.

Gazing up at Quinn with undisguised emotion, Rachel pats the mattress next to her. “Come lay with me and just forget the world,” she urges with a smile.

**QUINN:** “There’s nothing I’d like more,” she says, taking Rachel up on her invitation and climbing onto her bed.

The second Quinn gets settled on her back, Rachel shifts closer, and in a familiar motion, she takes her girlfriend in her arms, relishing the feel of Rachel’s warm body tucked into her side and the fresh scent of shampoo, soap, and what Quinn can only describe as _Rachel_.

She lets out a soft sigh of contentment, savoring this closeness for a moment as music continues to play in the background.

But soon Rachel’s right hand starts to lightly trail up and down Quinn’s left arm, sending a pleasant shiver through her.

**RACHEL:** The moment Quinn is next to her, Rachel gravitates to her, melting into her body. It feels like coming home, and Rachel once again finds herself thinking how perfectly they fit together. She doesn’t remember ever feeling quite this content in anyone else’s arms—not even Finn’s.

Itching to touch, Rachel’s fingers begin to dance along the bare skin of Quinn’s arm without her consciously thinking about it, and her eyes lovingly roam over Quinn’s beautiful face, coming to rest on the curve of her lips. Lifting her gaze to hazel eyes, she sees Quinn watching her with amused devotion.

“Hi,” she whispers, grinning besottedly at her girlfriend.

**QUINN:** “Hi,” she replies just as softly, her own smile growing at the sight of Rachel’s infectious grin. “I love you,” Quinn continues, gazing at her girlfriend intently, needing to convey how much she means it. “You know that, right?”

**RACHEL:** The intensity of Quinn’s gaze stirs up the butterflies in Rachel’s belly, and her smile trembles a bit around the edges. If not for the smile still on Quinn’s lips, Rachel might worry that her question is a preamble for some grave announcement or attempt to set Rachel free for her own good—again.

“I know,’ Rachel responds, hoping she managed to keep the nerves out of her voice. “And I love you too,” she vows, curling her hand around Quinn’s biceps. “So very much.”

**QUINN:** Those words are music to Quinn’s ears, and Rachel’s touch grounds her.

“I know being with me hasn’t been easy,” she starts before licking her lips in contemplation. She’s played this conversation over in her head so many times, but actually saying the words out loud makes it so real. “And I… I’m sorry for that,” Quinn continues, and Rachel looks like she wants to object, but Quinn plows on before she can, “but I’ve been working on it. I really have.”

She lifts her left palm to cup Rachel’s face then. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get over Finn’s death and the imprint he’s left on you, but…” Quinn swallows thickly as she closes her eyes. “I want to try. I have to.”

**RACHEL:** Rachel’s stomach drops when Quinn apologizes once again. She’d hoped so badly that they were finally moving past her need to do that, and she wants to remind Quinn that she chooses to be here with her and Quinn has nothing to be sorry about, but Quinn doesn’t give her the chance.

Instead, she mentions Finn, and Rachel holds her breath for a moment, fearing where Quinn’s misplaced guilt might take them until she confesses that she wants to get over it.

Moving her hand to cover Quinn’s where it cups her cheek, Rachel strokes her thumb over Quinn’s knuckles, hoping to sooth her. “I know you do, baby. But we have time. I’m not going anywhere,” she promises with a reassuring smile.

“And, you know,” she continues quietly, moistening her lips as she gazes into glistening hazel eyes, “the imprint you’ve left on me is pretty significant too.”

A part of her will always love Finn, but he’s Rachel’s past while Quinn is very much her future.

**QUINN:** She sucks in a breath, not daring to blink. “Do you really mean that?” Quinn asks.

Rachel nods earnestly, curving her palm around the back of Quinn’s hand, but her girlfriend’s words are still a difficult thing for Quinn to wrap her head around.

All she knows is that she’s the luckiest girl on earth and that she never wants to let Rachel go. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” she confesses breathlessly before capturing Rachel’s lips between her own.

**RACHEL:** She falls into Quinn’s kiss with the weightlessness of a soaring heart—sent flying with Quinn’s words. Everything that’s happened over the last eight months since finding Quinn again rushes through Rachel’s mind, pulling her fully into this moment with the knowledge of how far they’ve come and the certainty that they can keep building that future together that Rachel wants so very badly.

Her lips part beneath Quinn’s talented mouth, and Rachel shifts on the bed in an attempt to get even closer. Her arm coils around Quinn’s back, and her hand slips beneath the material of her tank top—palm flattening over soft, warm skin. She wants to touch her everywhere—to show her with touches and kisses and sighs just how deep an imprint Quinn has made on her heart.

**QUINN:** Rachel’s palm against Quinn’s skin has her moaning softly into Rachel’s mouth—everywhere she touches makes Quinn feel like she’s on fire, her desire for Rachel skyrocketing by the second.

Her own hand slides up Rachel’s back, fingernails lightly scratching as she goes, before hooking her bare leg around Rachel’s, needing to be as close as possible.

**RACHEL:** The way Quinn responds to her instantly fans the fire in Rachel’s belly into an inferno. For all her determination to be patient and let Quinn set the pace, the slow progression of their physical relationship has been making Rachel crazy, especially when it’s been so very long since she’s been fully intimate with anyone.

Her make-out sessions with Quinn have been wonderful and satisfying in their way, but oh—how she wants to have Quinn completely!

Rachel can feel the heat of Quinn’s body feeding the flames inside of her, and her hips shift restlessly against her girlfriend, searching for friction before she can stop herself.

She really doesn’t want to stop herself—not when Quinn’s tongue is delving deeper into her mouth and teasing her with the promise of all the wonderfully wicked things it could do to other parts of her body.

**QUINN:** Rachel’s thigh presses between Quinn’s legs, causing Quinn’s hands to momentarily tighten in the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt as she let’s out soft gasp. God, she loves the way Rachel moves against her—how responsive they both are to each other.

It’s what’s made the physical aspect of their relationship so satisfying despite not going all the way, but Quinn knows Rachel wants more, and she does too.

Breaking their kiss, Quinn rolls Rachel onto her back so she’s firmly atop her, legs sliding together seamlessly as Rachel’s fingers splay against her shoulders. Her mouth soon finds its way to Rachel’s jaw before latching onto an earlobe and suckling as she presses her thigh between Rachel’s legs.

**RACHEL:** The change of position and the firm press of Quinn’s thigh between her legs sends Rachel’s arousal into overdrive, and a wanton moan falls from her lips as Quinn’s mouth finds the sweet spot behind her ear.

Lightly raking her nails down Quinn’s cotton covered back, Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and savors the weight of Quinn on top of her. Rachel can feel the soft press of fingers teasing against the side of her breast before they slowly trail down over her ribs, and she shivers in pleasure in the wake of Quinn’s touch. But when those warm fingertips slip under the hem of her t-shirt, Rachel’s eyes pop open.

“M-maybe we should…mmm…turn off the light,” she suggests breathlessly, not wanting Quinn to stop what she’s doing but thinking it might be wiser if there was a little less light on the subject should her t-shirt happen to ride up too high.

**QUINN:** Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of Rachel’s soft curves beneath her, the taste of her skin, and every moan she elicits, it takes Quinn a moment to register Rachel’s request and then another to remember why she would even do so.

There’s an odd but not unfamiliar twist in Quinn’s belly, but she knows it will pass and following Rachel’s suggestion of turning off the light can only help.

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, trying to catch her breath as she reluctantly removes her hands from beneath Rachel’s shirt and lifts herself up slightly so she can switch off the lamp on her bedside table.

But she can’t help sneaking another look at her girlfriend before her face will be hidden by the darkness of her bedroom, and Quinn’s heart swells at the sight.

**RACHEL:** When Quinn pulls away from her, Rachel scrapes her teeth across her lower lip as her eyes follow her girlfriend. She so very sexy, and Rachel would like nothing more than for that light to stay on so she can watch the play of passion on Quinn’s face, but she knows this is for the best. She’s not sure how far Quinn intends for them to go tonight, but if there’s even a chance of her shirt coming off, she can’t risk testing Quinn’s recent progress with the unfettered sight of her tattoo.

Once the room is cast into darkness, Rachel feels an odd mix of disappointment and relief, but it soon fades beneath a swell of desire when Quinn comes back to her, capturing her mouth in another breathless kiss and unerringly returning her hands to their exploration of Rachel’s skin.

**QUINN:** Her fingers slowly travel along Rachel’s ribs, and the way Rachel subtly shifts into Quinn’s touch and runs her own hands up Quinn’s back is enough to make her forget all about the ink under her right hand.

All she wants right now is to make Rachel feel good.

Pressing her thigh more firmly against Rachel, Quinn breaks their kiss then, but her mouth soon finds its way to her girlfriend’s neck, suckling lightly as her hands finally cup Rachel’s perfect breasts.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s sensual assault has Rachel arching into her touch, and she gasps in pleasure, trying to get closer. Her hips roll against Quinn’s thigh as her fingers scrabble against Quinn’s lower back, pushing away the material of her tank top and seeking out skin.

Quinn’s shirt rides up just enough for Rachel to feel the heat of Quinn’s bare stomach brushing against hers, and—sweet Barbra—she wishes they could just get naked right now. She wants to feel Quinn everywhere.

**QUINN:** She doesn’t know whether to arch her back into Rachel’s touch or press down to feel more of her girlfriend’s skin against her own. Every movement and sound Rachel makes sends a pleasant ripple of pleasure through Quinn and intensifies her own desire.

Brushing her thumbs over the stiff peaks of Rachel’s nipples—and eliciting another one of those wonderful gasps—Quinn then lets her mouth travel lower, placing open-mouth kisses along the column of Rachel’s throat down to her collarbone.

She wants to taste Rachel everywhere.

**RACHEL:** Helpless to resist the magic of Quinn’s touch, Rachel tilts her head back and moans her name. Her body throbs with pleasure at every point of contact, driving her closer to ecstasy with every teasing scrape of Quinn’s nails against her nipples and every suckle of her mouth against Rachel’s skin.

Driven by need, Rachel slides her leg over the back of Quinn’s thigh and shifts restlessly against her girlfriend. She drags a hand down Quinn’s back until her fingers can dip beneath the elastic waistband of Quinn’s shorts and sink into the soft swell of her ass.

“God, I want you so much,” she gasps breathlessly.

**QUINN:** A soft moan escapes Quinn’s lips—both from the sensation of Rachel’s hand squeezing Quinn’s backside and her wanton plea.

“I want you too,” Quinn breathes against Rachel’s skin as she rolls her hips and teases Rachel’s nipples. Rachel gasps once more, tightening her hold on Quinn and causing her to let out another moan. “So much,” she gasps out, and oh, God, does she.

She needs to be closer—to feel every inch of Rachel’s skin against her own, to explore every inch of her body with her mouth and hands—and she doesn’t want to wait any longer.

Sliding her hands down Rachel’s sides, Quinn then hooks her fingers into the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt, eager to remove the barriers between them.

**RACHEL:** She wants nothing more than to give every part of herself to Quinn and explore every part of Quinn in return, but the feeling of Quinn’s hands steadily lifting away the material of her shirt sends a sharp blade of awareness cutting into Rachel’s haze of passion. Her own hands jerk away from Quinn’s body to hastily close around Quinn’s wrists.

“Wait,” Rachel begs softly, searching Quinn’s confused eyes when they fly to meet hers.

“Are…are you sure?” she asks carefully, needing to be certain that Quinn isn’t pushing herself too far or too fast just because Rachel wants this so very much.

**QUINN:** When Rachel’s warm grip stops Quinn, her heart momentarily drops into her stomach. But the second those questioning words reach Quinn’s ears, her heart swells once more.

“I am,” Quinn replies a bit breathlessly, searching Rachel’s face through the darkness of the bedroom. “I love you, Rachel, and I want you,” she continues, gazing intently at her girlfriend. “I _need_ you.”

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s words—said with confidence and desire—are exactly what Rachel needs to hear. She trusts Quinn and trusts that she knows what she wants and needs. The fact that she wants and needs Rachel—it makes her heart soar and her body beg to give Quinn everything she needs.

“Then I’m yours,” Rachel promises with a smile, letting go of Quinn’s wrists so she can help her girlfriend strip the offending material away from her body.

**QUINN:** Rachel’s declaration is music to Quinn’s ears, and it both settles her and spurs her on. Only knowing one way to show Rachel how she feels, Quinn captures her lips in a heated kiss, pouring all her love and desire into it before continuing to lift her girlfriend’s shirt up.

Quinn breaks their kiss so she can finally remove Rachel’s shirt and catch her breath, but the sight beneath her makes Quinn’s breath get stuck in her throat. Even though they’re cast in darkness, she’s able to make out the gentle swell of Rachel’s breasts and the soft curve of her hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Quinn murmurs before ducking her head and wrapping her lips around one of Rachel’s nipples.

**RACHEL:** She can feel the heat of Quinn’s gaze on her through the darkness right before she feels the heat of her mouth on her breast. It sets Rachel’s body on fire all over again, and she arches into the sensation, sinking her fingers into Quinn’s still-damp hair.

“Oh, sweet heaven,” Rachel whispers mindlessly, eyes fluttering closed as she loses herself to the pleasure of finally having Quinn’s lips and tongue worshipping her naked skin. “You feel so good.”

Every lick and nip and kiss sends a current straight to her clit, and her hips rock helplessly in time with Quinn’s seduction. Groaning, Rachel’s left hand reaches down to bunch into the material of Quinn’s tank top and tugs. “But you’re wearing too many clothes.”

**QUINN:** She releases Rachel’s nipple from her mouth and lets out a heavy breath as Rachel pulls on her tank top—her girlfriend’s desire for her body making Quinn feel wanted in a way that no one else has. Quinn is all too happy to oblige, and she’s quick to help Rachel strip her topless, not paying much attention to where her tank top ends up.

Rachel’s fingers once again thread between Quinn’s hair before gently urging her head down for a searing kiss.

Quinn moans into Rachel mouth as her bare skin finally comes into contact with her girlfriend’s.

**RACHEL:** The press of Quinn’s naked breasts against her own feels so much better than Rachel had imagined, and she revels in the intimacy of it as she tastes the heady vibrations of Quinn’s moan. Satisfied that Quinn isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Rachel abandons Quinn’s hair to gently drag her nails down Quinn’s back, scraping along her ribs until she can stroke the sides of her breasts.

She wishes she could see all of Quinn’s body unfettered by the darkness, but she knows this is how it has to be for now, and it’s enough.

“You’re so sexy,” she mumbles against Quinn’s lips. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

**QUINN:** Happy tears spring to hazel eyes, and Quinn smiles into their kiss. “I’m all yours,” she affirms with a soft whisper before swiping her tongue against Rachel’s and lifting her torso up so Rachel can explore.

And when those perfect fingers find their way to Quinn’s breasts, teasing her nipples, Quinn gasps, feeling a bolt of pleasure shoot all the way down to her core.

**RACHEL:** The first time that Rachel had seen Quinn Fabray at the tender age of thirteen, she’d experienced a moment of utter awe in the face of Quinn’s unparalleled beauty. She’d been too young and too caught up in her single-minded vision of her future on Broadway and meeting her leading man to even consider the possibility that one day she’d be here with a half-naked Quinn on top of her while holding her perfect breasts in her very eager hands.

Right now, she feels like that awestruck thirteen year old girl all over again. Her inner horny teenager is screaming at her to rip off Quinn’s shorts, flip her over on the mattress, and touch her everywhere at once—fumbling inelegance be damned.

But her heart is demanding that she slow down and savor every single touch and kiss so she can show Quinn in intimate detail just how much, “I love you.”

Smiling, Quinn leans down to kiss her again. Rachel continues to tease Quinn’s breast with one hand while the other trails down over the soft skin of Quinn’s belly, heading steadily south because Quinn is still wearing too many clothes.

**QUINN:** The heat between them continues to climb with every kiss and touch, and butterflies erupt in Quinn’s belly as Rachel’s hand continues to trail lower. Warm fingers slip inside the waistband of her shorts, and she instinctively lifts her hips.

As eager as she is to have Rachel, there’s a part of Quinn that wants nothing more than to have Rachel’s hand between her thighs.

**RACHEL:** A grin curves Rachel’s lips as her fingers seek out the tempting heat between Quinn’s legs. A guttural moan tears out of Quinn’s mouth as her back arches and hips roll into Rachel’s touch, and even without the light on, Rachel can see the rapture painting Quinn’s gorgeous face. She decides right then and there that touching Quinn this way is her favorite thing ever and sinks her fingers deeper into liquid fire.

“Is this for me?” she teases breathlessly—though, truth be told, Rachel is still a little amazed that she actually has the power to do this to Quinn.

**QUINN:** “All for you,” Quinn confirms with a pleasured gasp as two fingers slide between her folds. “You feel so good, Rachel,” she pants out, shifting her hips further up to give her girlfriend easier access and taking in the awed expression on her face.

**RACHEL:** “Oh, God, so do you,” Rachel murmurs dazedly, unable to look away from Quinn’s face.

Feeling Quinn this way has Rachel’s own desire rising exponentially and her hips shifting against the mattress even as she sinks deeper into the silken heat surrounding her fingers. Quinn is so wet and so wonderfully responsive, but, “I really need you to be naked now,” Rachel practically begs, even though she never wants to move her hand from its glorious place inside of Quinn.

**QUINN:** Rachel’s request sends Quinn’s desire even higher, despite those talented fingers slipping out of her and leaving her wanting.

But then Rachel’s hands are hooking into her waistband, and Quinn feels those butterflies erupt once more. Still, she completely understands Rachel’s own need.

“Only if you join me,” Quinn husks.

**RACHEL:** A soft moan bubbles past Rachel’s lips at the thought of finally—finally!—being fully naked with Quinn.

“Absolutely. I will absolutely join you,” she promises eagerly, accepting the permission she’s been given to ease Quinn’s shorts down over the luscious swell of her hips. “But you first.”

**QUINN:** The eagerness in Rachel’s voice and touch sends another rush of warmth through Quinn, and it makes her want to give everything—mind, body, and heart—to Rachel.

Quinn shifts her hips further up so Rachel can slide her shorts down without any obstacles, and then bends her knees, scooting further up the bed so that Rachel can undress her completely.

Despite the darkness, Quinn can feel the ardent gaze of brown eyes roaming over her body, and Quinn’s heart races that much faster.

**RACHEL:** Quinn shifts over Rachel until she comes to rest at Rachel’s side, giving her better access to her body, and Rachel takes enthusiastic advantage of the change in position to finish stripping away Quinn’s shorts. Her fingertips trail over the smoothness of Quinn’s skin from hip to ankle even as her eyes caress every inch of Quinn revealed to her, and she carelessly tosses the shorts away before focusing all of her attention on her girlfriend.

“Oh, Quinn,” she breathes—mouth watering at the beauty laid out before her. Rachel reaches out her suddenly trembling fingers, still coated with the proof of Quinn’s arousal, to reverently trace the curve of her hip.

“You’re perfect.”

**QUINN:** Her eyes water once more, almost unable to fathom Rachel’s words. Despite all her efforts to achieve perfection throughout her life, Quinn has always come up woefully short. But this—right now, laid bare before Rachel’s eyes and trembling touch— _this_ is perfect.

Lifting her hand, Quinn palms Rachel’s cheek. “I love you,” she breathes with a tearful smile, not knowing what else to say, before leaning in for another kiss.

**RACHEL:** “I love you too,” Rachel murmurs against Quinn’s lips before sinking into her kiss.

Rachel can’t quite decide whether she wants to worship Quinn slowly or just let go and ravish her. With the heat of Quinn’s magnificent body burning her from the outside in, Rachel’s own body is screaming for the latter. Her rising desire has her forgetting about her promise to let Quinn get her naked too and has her hands resuming a greedy exploration of Quinn’s breasts while her leg slips between Quinn’s thighs, pressing up against the slick heat of her core until Quinn tears her mouth away from Rachel’s with a wanton moan.

It’s music to Rachel’s ears.

**QUINN:** The way Rachel’s thigh presses against Quinn’s core and thumbs tease her nipples has Quinn lightly gripping the back of Rachel’s head as her hips start to rock. She’s practically helpless to stop them, but she doesn’t exactly want to. Having Rachel’s (mostly) bare skin against her own is sending her desire to heights Quinn’s never known before.

So when Rachel’s touch grows more enthusiastic, her body pressing more fervently against Quinn’s, she lets Rachel take control and soon finds herself on her back with her girlfriend atop her and that talented mouth latched onto Quinn’s pulse point while her hips continue to rock.

**RACHEL:** Having Quinn spread out beneath her, so open and responsive and so very, very hot, is like a drug going straight to Rachel’s head—and certain other parts of her body. The sweet taste of Quinn’s skin on her tongue only makes her want more, so she sets out on a mission to sample every inch, kissing her way down Quinn’s neck and sternum until her mouth closes over one stiff nipple.

Conscious of Quinn’s hips rolling wantonly against her, Rachel continues to swirl her tongue around Quinn’s nipple while one hand glides down between their bodies to find its home in the heart of Quinn’s desire.

She’ll get around to tasting that too, but first she wants to touch.

**QUINN:** Another moan tears from Quinn’s chest when two of Rachel’s fingers slide between her folds and then inside. That combined with Rachel’s mouth on her nipple has Quinn feeling like she’s died and gone to heaven.

Rachel starts moving her hand in a slow but steady rhythm, and Quinn’s mouth falls open in pleasure as her own fingers thread into brown hair as her hips continue to roll, meeting Rachel thrust for thrust.

“Just like that, Rachel” Quinn pants. “God, you feel so good.”

**RACHEL:** Rachel’s lips curve around Quinn’s nipple, and she silently preens at the verbal confirmation that she’s making Quinn feel good—although the physical cues are pretty damn obvious. Rachel loves it—loves the way Quinn’s body strains to match her movements and the sound of her moans and whimpers and husky demands for Rachel to keep touching her just like this.

Her own need increases right along with Quinn’s mounting passion, and Rachel’s hips roll against Quinn’s thigh as she kisses and licks a path between Quinn’s breasts, learning every contour even while she thrusts her curling fingers in and out of Quinn’s heat.

Rachel can’t quite decide whether she wants to make Quinn come just like this or replace her fingers with her mouth and finally taste Quinn in the most intimate way.

Her mouth begins to drifts down.

**QUINN:** The combination of Rachel’s mouth on Quinn’s body and fingers sliding in and out of her heat is almost overwhelming, and it’s all Quinn can do to just hold on and move against and with Rachel.

But when that talented mouth starts traveling further south, Quinn’s stomach flutters with anticipation as her heart swells while somehow beating even faster.

And then Rachel’s breath is washing over her center, and Quinn forgets how to breathe.

**RACHEL:** She pauses for just a moment to inhale the heady scent of Quinn’s arousal, quietly moaning in anticipation. Drawing out their mutual satisfaction, Rachel continues to gently work her fingers inside of Quinn as she dips her head to kiss the soft patch of skin beneath Quinn’s navel before trailing her eager mouth down to her hip and then the inside of her thigh.

Quinn groans in frustration, hissing out Rachel’s name while her hips lift off the mattress and her fingers curl into Rachel’s hair to urge her to the place she needs her most.

Rachel is only too happy to comply, moaning again at the first incredible taste of Quinn’s essence on her tongue.

**QUINN:** She lets out a soft cry at the feeling of finally having Rachel’s mouth on her, and that combined with the vibration of her girlfriend’s moan has Quinn dangerously close to the brink already.

Rachel begins to move her mouth in tandem with her fingers, and Quinn’s fingers tighten in brown hair as her hips subtly rock.

“Oh, God, yes,” Quinn pants. “So good. So, so good.”

**RACHEL:** Oh, yes. So very, very good, Rachel silently agrees, eyelids fluttering as she explores the soft, sweet heat of Quinn. Her tongue delves deeper into Quinn’s folds, teasing her clit even while her fingers keep working inside of Quinn.

Rachel takes note of every reaction, learning exactly what makes Quinn pant and gasp and moan. She can sense Quinn getting closer with every ministration, and her own need intensifies in tandem with Quinn’s growing pleasure. It drives Rachel on, determined to make Quinn fall apart for her.

**QUINN:** She’s close.

Oh, God, she’s so close, and this is beyond heaven.

It’s not going to take much more, and with every thrust of fingers insider her and that talented tongue brushing against her clit, Quinn feels her pleasure building.

She hasn’t even come yet, but she’s never felt anything like this—her entire body is alight, tingling with pleasure, and it almost feels like she’s in an altered state.

And then Rachel wraps her lips around Quinn’s clit and starts to suckle as the speed of her fingers increase, and Quinn’s hips buck as her entire body goes taut—white, hot pleasure radiating up from her core and filling her entire body.

**RACHEL:** Quinn’s inner walls tighten around Rachel’s fingers, fluttering with intense spasms as she comes apart under Rachel’s touch. Rachel gazes up Quinn’s body as best as she can through the darkness while she continues to coax Quinn through her orgasm, and she wishes she could watch the ecstasy play across her face, but she wouldn’t trade the touch, the taste, the sounds of Quinn’s release for anything.

When Quinn finally comes crashing back to the mattress, spent and breathless, Rachel gently eases her fingers out of her to the sound of Quinn’s soft moan, and she presses a final kiss to Quinn’s inner thigh before quickly crawling back up her body to see the final result of her efforts. Her breath catches in her throat and her body throbs at the sight of Quinn completely undone—heavy-lidded, lips parted, and glistening with perspiration.

“You’re incredible,” she whispers in awe, brushing her fingers through the mussed hair at Quinn’s temple.

**QUINN:** She still hasn’t entirely come back to herself and she’s still trying to catch her breath when Rachel’s loving gaze comes into view. Quinn’s never felt so sated and content before, and it has everything to do with Rachel.

So when Rachel whispers, all Quinn can do is shake her head as her lips curve up slightly.

“ _You’re_ incredible,” Quinn argues before drawing Rachel’s head down and capturing her mouth in a heated kiss, intent on showing her girlfriend just how much she means that.

**RACHEL:** Moaning into Quinn’s kiss, Rachel lowers her body on top of Quinn until they’re pressed together enticingly from breasts to bellies, and her hips roll helplessly against her girlfriend. She’s so turned on from everything they’ve already done—the shorts that she never managed to remove are uncomfortably damp—and she’s afraid it won’t take much at all for her to climax.

Quinn’s tongue seeks out hers, and Rachel dizzily wonders if she can taste herself. One hand tangles in Quinn hair while the other reaches for Quinn’s, twining their fingers together. When Quinn eventually releases her mouth for a much needed breath, Rachel presses her forehead to Quinn’s staring deeply into hazel eyes.

“I love you so much,” she husks, hips still moving wantonly against Quinn. “And I love the way you feel against me. Like we were made for this,” she murmurs in wonder, realizing how true it is. She and Quinn just fit together so perfectly.

She never wants to be anywhere else.

**QUINN:** “I love you too,” she breathes out, gazing intently into brown eyes, her love and need for Rachel growing. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

Quinn caps off that affirmation with another kiss, once against tasting herself on Rachel’s tongue, and it spurs Quinn on. Her hands slide down Rachel’s bare back before grabbing onto her ass, which is still covered by shorts, much to her chagrin.

“I want this off,” Quinn husks against Rachel’s mouth, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her girlfriend’s shorts.

**RACHEL:** “Mm, anything you want,” Rachel promises easily.

Though she’s reluctant to move her body away from Quinn’s for even a moment, she wants Quinn’s touch on her bare flesh even more, so she plants her palms against the mattress and pushes up and off of Quinn, rolling to her side to give her girlfriend unrestricted access to her body.

Quinn is quick to take advantage of Rachel’s new position by moving over her before hooking her fingers back into the waistband of Rachel’s shorts and beginning to slide them down with a predatory smirk on her lips.

**QUINN:** Quinn’s pulse quickens as she finally lowers Rachel’s shorts over the swell of her perfect ass and then down the smooth skin of the most gorgeous pair of legs Quinn has ever laid eyes on or had the privilege to touch.

She thinks she could spend hours worshiping them, but right now there’s another part of Rachel that Quinn needs to taste and touch.

After tossing Rachel’s shorts off to the side of the bed, Quinn slides her hands back up deliciously long legs, lowering her upper body as she goes. The scent of Rachel’s arousal hits her, and Quinn’s mouth waters as her eyes fluttered closed.

**RACHEL:** The sight of Quinn hungrily sliding over her body, eyeing Rachel’s exposed sex like it’s a feast that she can’t wait to devour, sends Rachel’s arousal flying to a height she’s never before experienced, and she curls her fingers into the wrinkled sheets beneath her. The anticipation of Quinn’s touch is such sweet torture, and Rachel’s hips shift restlessly beneath her.

“Please, Quinn. I need you,” she begs, spreading her legs wider in invitation.

**QUINN:** The need and want in Rachel’s voice is music to Quinn’s ears, and she’s all too happy to comply.

Quinn settles down between Rachel’s legs, wrapping her arms around perfect thighs. She inhales deeply once more before finally taking mercy on her girlfriend, lowering her head and licking a hot stripe up Rachel’s center.

**RACHEL:** At the first touch of Quinn’s tongue, Rachel moans in pleasure as her back arches off the mattress. Electricity zings through her body, setting fire to every atom before it rebounds hard and fast back to her center.

“Oh, my God. Yes,” she pants breathlessly, twisting her fists into the sheets as the throbbing between her legs blossoms under Quinn’s attention. “Oh…don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

**QUINN:** Rachel’s pleas are entirely unnecessary—Quinn has no intention of ever stopping—but she can’t deny the thrill that goes through her at Rachel’s words. But the boost it gives Quinn’s ego pales in comparison to her need to make Rachel feel good.

Rachel’s heady taste on Quinn’s tongue is beyond compare, and she can’t stop herself from moaning as she continues to worship her girlfriend with her mouth.

**RACHEL:** She’s dancing along the edge of the abyss, already on the verge of falling over. Quinn’s mouth is so incredibly talented, and every brush of her tongue pushes Rachel closer. Her grip on the sheets slackens only to delve into Quinn’s hair—one hand sinking into the silky strands to hold her close while the other roams over her own breast, teasing the sensitive nipple.

Rachel’s hips rock instinctively into Quinn’s mouth, and though her head wants to tip back against the mattress as she gasps and moans, she keeps struggling to lift it enough to look down her body to see the blonde head bobbing between her thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” she groans, slamming her head back into the mattress at the erotic vision before her eyes.

It feels like every part of her body is connected to a thread that keeps pulling tighter and tighter with every intimate kiss Quinn bestows on her, and it’s just about to snap.

**QUINN:** The curse that spills from Rachel’s lips is surprising but very much a turn on, and Quinn’s eyes flutter closed as fingers tug on her hair, drawing her impossibly closer to Rachel’s sex.

Thighs tighten around Quinn’s head then, and Quinn sucks harder on Rachel’s clit, sensing that her girlfriend’s close to the edge and wanting nothing more than to pull her over it.

**RACHEL:** Her body hangs quivering on the tip of a beautiful precipice that’s higher than any Rachel has ever scaled, but then Quinn does something particularly magical with her tongue and—

Everything seems to freeze for a single heartbeat before exploding into bright white light behind her eyelids and sending her falling over the edge. Her body shudders and pulses with pleasure that ripples out from her center as she crashes into ecstasy, and she’s only distantly aware of the gasps and moans and nonsensical words slipping past her lips as she rides out the seemingly endless waves of her climax.

Quinn is right there with her through it all, coaxing every last spasm from her body until Rachel finally collapses into a boneless heap beneath her girlfriend, completely sated.

**QUINN:** She’s seen and heard and felt Rachel come before, but there’s something about making her come with her mouth that makes Quinn feel it much more acutely. Rachel is the best thing she’s ever tasted, and the sheer intimacy of it all makes everything feel heightened.

After the last tremor of pleasure courses through Rachel’s body, Quinn gently removes her mouth from her girlfriend’s clit before slowly moving up Rachel’s body, pressing soft, open-mouth kisses as she goes and savoring the taste of her skin.

**RACHEL:** Lost inside a pleasant haze of post-coital bliss, Rachel distantly registers the soft heat of Quinn’s mouth traveling the contours of her spent body. When Quinn finally reaches the curve her of neck, Rachel musters up the strength to lift her heavy arm from where it had fallen uselessly to the mattress so she can cup the back of Quinn’s head.

Quinn removes her lips from Rachel’s skin at the touch, hovering over her with a grin that’s caught somewhere between satisfied and smug and is altogether rakish. Rachel can’t help but find it incredibly sexy.

“That was…wow,” Rachel murmurs, unable to put her words together into any kind of coherent sentence that could possibly describe what she’d just experienced—what she very much hopes to experience again really soon and everyday for the rest of her life.

**QUINN:** That feeling of satisfaction grows at the sight a thoroughly sated and spent Rachel, but Quinn definitely agrees with her description.

“You’re amazing, Rachel,” she murmurs, searching brown eyes for a moment. “I’m so very lucky,” she adds before leaning down and kissing Rachel as she settles her body atop her girlfriend’s, enjoying the feeling of skin against skin.

**RACHEL:** Smiling into the kiss, Rachel wraps her arms around Quinn and welcomes the weight of her body on top of her. She’d be content to stay like this forever.

“I’m the lucky one,” Rachel argues sweetly, running her hands down Quinn’s back. “I’m so happy I found you again.”

And she’s never letting go.

**QUINN:** A small wave of guilt crashes over Quinn, despite knowing she shouldn’t feel that way.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she replies softly, trying to shake away her regret, “but I promise I’m not going anywhere. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you. I love you, Rachel.”

Quinn kisses Rachel again, intent on showing her just how much for as long as she’s able.

**RACHEL:** “I love you too,” Rachel whispers between kisses.

They can’t change the past, but they can let go and start their future. Isn’t that what Quinn had told her so many years ago?

Right now, Rachel’s future is feeling pretty damned bright as she gives herself over to Quinn’s kiss. There’s a part of her, of course, that knows from painful experience just how easily Fate can step in to break even the most earnest promise, but she has Quinn in her arms right now, and Quinn has every intention of staying here, and that’s all Rachel can ask.

Fate brought them back to one another for a reason, and she thinks maybe they’re finally right where they’re meant to be.


	25. Hold On To That Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Friday, May 29, 2020**  
>  Rachel talks to Stephanie about the meaning of her tattoo

It’s been a really good week for Rachel. She’d had a lovely lunch with Kurt on Wednesday, she’d gone to a yoga class with Brittany on Thursday morning (though things between Rachel and Santana are still a bit on the chilly side), and she’d generally tapped into a renewed passion for her role that’s been absent for several weeks. As much as she hates to admit it, the rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows that she’s been on with Quinn has had a sometimes negative effect on the energy of her performances.

Right now, that rollercoaster is on the peak of the highest hill and threatening to jump right off the track and into orbit.

Rachel has had a near permanent smile on her face since Monday. All she has to do is think about Quinn and the passionate night that they’d spent together fully consummating their relationship and she’s right back on cloud nine. It had been everything that Rachel had dreamed it would be—almost perfect in every way.

It’s the  _ almost _ that has Rachel’s smile slipping as she changes out of her final costume on Friday night.

Here, under the bright lights of her dressing room, the tattoo beneath her ribs stands out against her tanned skin, and she catches her lower lip between her teeth as she gazes at the mirrored reflection of those familiar words. Scraping a fingernail over the script, she thinks about what they mean to her and what they seem to mean for Quinn, and she wonders again if Quinn will ever be able to look at the inscription without being eaten alive by her misguided guilt.

“Sheesh, Lima. You’ve got a great body and all, but copping a feel to your own reflection is a little vain even for you.”

Rachel jumps a bit at the unexpected interruption and scrambles for the button down shirt that she’d left draped over the back of her chair. “I suppose it’s pointless to expect you to start knocking at this late date,” she laments with a resigned sigh.

“Little bit,” Stephanie confirms with an airy laugh as she breezes the rest of the way into Rachel’s dressing room, pushing the door shut behind her before she plops down onto the futon and makes herself comfortable. She waves a hand at Rachel as she hastily tugs on her shirt. “Don’t rush to cover up on my account. I’ve seen it all before.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Well, I can hardly go out and sign autographs in nothing but my bra.”

Stephanie is already changed into jeans and a lacy, green blouse, though her makeup is mostly still in place for their standing stagedoor date with the fans. Rachel frowns slightly at the realization of just how much she’s been dallying on her own post show routine tonight.

“Why not? You’d certainly give them all a thrill,” Stephanie muses, winking. “Twitter would probably blow up with all the fan pics and all-cap pronouncements of ‘I saw Rachel Berry naked!’” she quotes, spreading her hands in the air like she’s posting a headline.

“Which is why I’m putting on my shirt,” Rachel explains with a chuckle as she begins to fasten the buttons. “I don’t even parade around half naked for my girlfriend,” she adds without thinking.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Stephanie comments, leaning forward in her seat with a thoughtful expression. “I thought there were a whole lot of naked activities happening on Monday.  You’ve certainly been lighting up the stage with your afterglow.”

Rachel pauses over the last button, glancing up at her friend.  A tiny smile tugs at her lips again at the memory of Monday, a fact that Stephanie can’t possibly miss. In fact, she hadn’t missed it on Tuesday when Rachel had floated into the theatre still high on postcoital bliss—so high that Stephanie had taken one look at her and instantly surmised that she and Quinn had finally had sex.

But then Rachel’s smile slips again.  “We kept the lights off,” she admits quietly.

Stephanie gazes at her thoughtfully for a long moment. “The tattoo again?” she asks gently, already knowing about what had happened the first time Quinn had seen it and clearly deducing the reason that Rachel had been ogling herself in the mirror when she’d walked in.  

Sighing, Rachel leans back against her vanity table with a short nod. “She hasn’t specifically said anything about it lately, but…I know it bothers her, so I tried to make sure it wouldn’t be an issue this time.”

Stephanie leans forward in her seat. “I guess I can understand that, but Rachel, she’s going to have to deal with it eventually. I mean, you can’t keep it hidden forever if you’re planning to stick with her for the long haul. Unless you’re planning to actually have it covered it up,” she considers with a frown, “or have it removed.”

Rachel’s fingers curl around the edge of the table and squeeze. “I…don’t want to,” she says, trailing off as she glances away from Stephanie’s probing eyes.

“But?” Stephanie challenges knowingly.

“I don’t know,” Rachel growls in frustration, sweeping a hand through her hair before her eyes come back to Stephanie.  “When I first decided to have it done...it was meant to be a permanent, tangible reminder of Finn and the time we had together. I wasn’t thinking about how my future partners might feel about it, because at the time I wasn’t sure I could ever love anyone like that again, so it really didn’t matter how anyone felt but me,” she explains, pressing an open palm to her chest. And really, none of her small handful of lovers before Quinn had even known exactly what those words meant to her. It had been easy to just say the tattoo was in memory of someone important to her that had passed away. 

“And then I realized those words are about more than just Finn,” Rachel continues, letting the hand over her heart slip down to her ribs where it presses against the now hidden tattoo through the fabric of her shirt. “They’re about me living every moment to the fullest because no one knows what might happen in the next. They’re about going after my dreams no matter what obstacles fall into my path, and keeping the people that I care about close to me and making sure they always know how I feel about them.” She shakes her head, huffing out a humorless laugh. “In a strange way, they’re even a little bit about Quinn. She was just one more person that I’d failed to hold on to…that I let slip away…and I never want to let that happen again.”

And now Rachel has the chance to make sure it never does.

“I don’t want to have it removed,” she declares more firmly, making the decision that she wasn’t fully conscious she’d even been considering.

Nodding in understanding, Stephanie leans back against the cushions of the futon.  “Does Quinn know all of that?”

“She knows it’s more about me now than it is about Finn.” They’d talked a little about it once Quinn had calmed down some from her initial reaction, and Rachel had been able to explain that even though she’d gotten the tattoo in memory of Finn, it was more about the way Rachel wanted to live her life. “She said she understands, but I know that doesn’t stop her mind from associating it with Finn and her own guilt about everything that came after his death,” she reveals with a sad shrug. “She says she’s working through it, but if I can limit her exposure to it in the meantime, then I will.”  Even if she does really want to make love to Quinn with all the lights on so she can see everything.

“Do you think she’s really working on all her issues?”

Rachel frowns at the question. “Of course I do,” she insists hotly. “Quinn is seeing her therapist regularly, and I trust her when she tells me she’s trying to get better.”

Stephanie chuckles a little, holding up her hands in supplication.   “Woah, there Mama Berry. I’m not casting aspersions on Quinn’s honesty. I’m just wondering…if she’s telling you she’s working on it, why don’t you let her?”

Rachel’s brows furrow in confusion as she stares at Stephanie. “What do you mean?”

Stephanie moistens her lips. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” and of course, Rachel’s hackles instantly rise at that because it’s usually a guarantee that she’s about to hear something mildly insulting, “but it sounds to me like maybe you’re trying to wrap Quinn up in a protective bubble and keep her from being faced with the things that might upset her instead of trusting her to actually try and deal with them like she wants to and, frankly, needs to.”

“That’s not true,” Rachel immediately argues, even though she knows it is the moment the words leave her mouth.

Stephanie’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “So she told you she wanted to keep the lights off when you got naked? It wasn’t your suggestion at all?”

Rachel feels her face grow hot, and she averts her eyes. “She didn’t tell me to keep them on,” she defends weakly.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t act so smug,” Rachel accuses with a mild scowl. “As far as I know, you haven’t miraculously obtained a psychology degree in the last few months.”

Stephanie laughs at that. “No. But I’ve seen enough therapists of my own to guess what they’ll say,” she confesses with a self-effacing grin. “Maybe you should make another appointment with yours.”

“I really don’t like you very much right now,” Rachel grumbles as she pushes away from her vanity—but she silently concedes that maybe she should discuss all of this in more detail with Doctor Hunter the next time she sees him.

“Yes, you do,” Stephanie counters, standing up from the futon. “You just don’t like me telling you things you’d rather not hear. Now, if you want Doctor Taylor’s advice…”

“I don’t,” Rachel interjects, though she’s ignored by Stephanie. 

“The next time you want to get naked with your gorgeous cheerleader, which I’m guessing will be thirty seconds after you see her next,” Stephanie teases with a smirk, making Rachel blush, “just come out and ask her if she’s okay seeing the tattoo again,” she suggests more seriously. “She might surprise you.”

Rachel knows that Stephanie is probably right—she should just ask Quinn what she’d prefer before they get intimate again—but, “Surprises with Quinn tend to be a mixed bag.”

Stephanie hums in sympathy, wrapping a supportive arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Just talk to her, Lima. Then maybe you can have a little fun with the naked parading.” 

A bark of laughter bursts out of Rachel’s mouth. “I’ll only parade for Quinn.”  And she’ll be happy to do it as long as Quinn is there in the moment with her and not lost to her own demons.  

“Of course,” Stephanie agrees with a grin, giving Rachel a quick squeeze before letting go. “Now come on. We’ve got adoring fans to meet and greet.”

Rachel nods her agreement, offering Stephanie a grateful smile as they make their way out of her dressing room. 

Things are going so well with Quinn right now, and Rachel wants to make sure they keep moving in the right direction. That means moving past her worry that her tattoo is going to trigger Quinn again. They really do need to have another conversation about it, but that’s not for tonight. Right now she’s going to bask in the accolades of her adoring fans for a little while, and then she’s going to call her girlfriend and invite her for breakfast tomorrow morning because she really can’t wait until Monday to see her again. 


	26. Text Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Friday, June 12, 2020**  
>  Quinn and Rachel make plans for the night, and Quinn takes an important step forward.

**QUINN:** Hi, baby. Just got out of work. How's your day been so far?

 **RACHEL:** Excruciatingly long and dull without you, baby. How was work? Did you edit the next bestseller?

 **QUINN:** I know the feeling. :( Work was okay. I mostly helped one of our editors do some photo research.

 **QUINN:** I wish you were here right now.

 **RACHEL:** Me too. But alas, the stage calls.

 **RACHEL:** Do you have plans on this lovely Friday evening? Perhaps catching a train into the city for a sleepover with your extremely talented girlfriend? ❤️

 **QUINN:** That sounds like a fantastic plan. Should I meet you at the theater or your place?

**RACHEL:** You can just go to my place and let yourself in. Unless watching me sign autographs with Stephanie is a turn-on for you. In that case, we could play fangirl and Broadway superstar. I'd be the superstar of course. ;)

**QUINN:** Mmm, as tempting as that is, I don't think your fans would appreciate that very much. I'll be ready and waiting for you at your place. ;)

**RACHEL:** The image I just got in my head of you...ready and waiting for me. In my bed. Spread out on my sheets.

**RACHEL:** I don't know how I'm going to get through my show with the thought of you distracting me so beautifully.

**QUINN:** I have faith in you. After all, you're the most talented woman on the planet.

**RACHEL:** Well, yes. Obviously.

**RACHEL:** But you're the most beautiful, sexiest woman on the planet. And I can't wait to be with you again. So you see my dilemma.

**QUINN:** Oh, I do. But patience is a virtue. I promise I'll make it worth the wait. ;)

**RACHEL:** You know it's not one of *my* strongest virtues, Quinn!

**RACHEL:** I have a feeling my evening is going to be as excruciatingly long as my day until I can get home to you and hold you to that promise.

**QUINN:** You'll be home before you know it.

**QUINN:** On a somewhat more serious note, there is something I was hoping you could give me before your show tonight, because I know once I'm in your bed, I'll forget to ask.

**RACHEL:** Well, that sounds somewhat ominous. But you know I'll give you anything, Quinn. In bed or out.

**QUINN:** And I'll always do the same for you. ❤️

**QUINN:** But it's nothing ominous. At least, I hope it will turn out okay. Can you give me Brittany's number?

**RACHEL:** Brittany? Lopez-Pierce?

**RACHEL:** You want her phone number?

**QUINN:** Yes. I think it's time I try to rebuild some of the bridges I burned.

**RACHEL:** Oh, Quinn...

**RACHEL:** Now I really want to skip my show and come see you right now.

**RACHEL:** You don't know how happy this makes me. I'm so proud of you, baby. Brittany will be so glad to hear from you. Her number is 567-395-6837.

**RACHEL:** If you want, I can text her and let her know to expect your call. But that's up to you. I don't want to push if you ultimately decide you're not quite ready yet.

**QUINN:** Thanks, Rach. :) I really do miss her.

**QUINN:** But I think I'm going to try texting her first instead of calling. You can let her know that if you think that's best.

**RACHEL:** I'll do that then so she'll know not to ignore the unknown number. And I think it might be best to give her a heads up so she can manage the Santana factor. I don't imagine you're entirely ready to rebuild that particular bridge just yet.

**RACHEL:** I'm really happy you want to take this step, Quinn, and you know you have my complete support. I'm here for you, baby. I love you so very much. ❤️❤️❤️

**QUINN:** I love you too. I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Thank you for being you. ❤️

**QUINN:** Break a leg tonight, Rach! I'll see you in a few hours... :-*

**RACHEL:** I'm the lucky one.

**RACHEL:** I'll be counting the minutes until I'm back in your arms. See you soon. :-*


	27. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tuesday, June 16, 2020**  
>  Quinn meets Brittany in the hopes of starting to mend fences and heal old wounds.

Quinn fidgets with the cap on her bottle of water as she waits inside the Starbucks on the corner of 8th Avenue and 47th Street—her gaze fixed on the front door and her nerves steadily growing.

Two days ago, she had finally taken the plunge and texted Brittany in the hopes of starting to make amends. To Quinn’s surprise, Brittany asked if she could meet Quinn for coffee—with a promise that Santana wouldn’t be there while also apologizing for her wife ambushing Quinn at the Jets Draft Party. The invitation had Quinn feeling equal parts hopeful and anxious, but she wasn’t about to ignore the olive branch being extended, even though she isn’t quite sure what to expect. Brittany has always been a bit of wild card.

When Quinn asked Rachel for Brittany’s number, her girlfriend had been nothing but excited at the prospect of Quinn finally reconnecting with one of her friends. Rachel even offered to join her today, but Quinn knows this is something she needs to do alone—at least initially. Brittany (and, maybe eventually, Santana) deserves that much.

Not two seconds later does the door open, and Quinn sucks in a breath as she takes in the sight of the very first friend she ever made at McKinley. Brittany’s movements are as graceful as Quinn remembers, but even from fifteen feet away, the passage of time is clear—any traces of baby fat are gone from her face, making her features much more defined than they were in high school.

Their gazes lock then, and blue eyes light up in recognition. Brittany does a little wave before heading over to where Quinn’s seated, and despite the rush of nerves, she stands to greet her.

“Hi, Quinn,” Brittany says as she simultaneously wraps her arms around Quinn, pulling her into a hug, and—oh, her hugs are just as awesome as she remembers them being.

So far, so good, Quinn thinks, feeling herself relax. “Hi, Brittany,” she murmurs.

Long moments later, Brittany finally lets go of Quinn and settles down in the seat across from Quinn’s.

“Do you want to get something to drink first?” she asks, hovering for a moment.

“No, that’s okay, I brought my own,” Brittany replies, reaching into her bag and taking out a Robot Unicorn Attack-themed thermos and setting it on the table.

Quinn mentally shakes her head and sits back down, watching as Brittany unscrews the lid and pours a cupful of coffee into it. Her gaze then fixes on Brittany’s left hand, and Quinn takes in the sight of the simple, white gold wedding band. Rachel had told her that Brittany and Santana had gotten married a few years ago, but actually seeing the ring on Brittany’s finger makes it more real for Quinn. The pang of regret for having missed the wedding is immediate.

She lifts her head and meets inquisitive blue eyes, and Quinn can see the hurt, confusion, and care swirling in them. That pang flares into an ache, and she doesn’t know what to say—she doesn’t know if words can fix what she’s done.

“I’ve missed you, Quinn,” Brittany says, finally breaking the silence that had formed.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she replies softly, unable to keep the contrition out of her voice.

“Why didn’t you want to see us?”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s what Rachel said.”

Quinn smiles sadly and lets out a watery laugh before sobering. “I’m sorry,” she says after a beat—earnest—before confessing, “I was ashamed… about so many things.”

Brittany’s brow furrows as she seemingly tries to understand.

She lets out a soft sigh before elaborating. “I messed up with you and Rachel and Santana all those years ago. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess, but also because I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me like that,” she explains. “And then so much time had passed, so instead of dealing with it, I pushed it down.”

“But then you and Rachel found each other again,” Brittany says plainly, but Quinn can see traces of sadness in her eyes, and Quinn can’t help but feel guilty. “And you still didn’t want to see us?”

“I was scared,” she answers honestly. “I knew Santana would be mad, and even though I deserve her ire, I didn’t want to deal with it because I was afraid of being triggered.”

“Like what happened the night Santana went to the party,” Brittany says knowingly. 

Quinn nods. “And, well, you two have always been a package deal… so I kept my distance.”

“Santana really loved you, Quinn,” Brittany replies, “and you hurt her by disappearing. And you not wanting to see us after you and Rachel found each other again really hurt her—and me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ve always been kind of dumb about people’s hearts. But I forgive you. I’m awesome like that.”

Some of the weight lifts from Quinn’s shoulders knowing she has Brittany’s forgiveness, but, “Do you think Santana will give me another chance, or is that bridge completely burned?”

“She’s still pretty mad at you, and she’s worried about Rachel, but I know deep down Santana really misses you. But she thinks you don’t miss her at all.”

Quinn sighs again before biting her lower lip thinking of how to explain it. After all, like she said at the beginning of this conversation—it’s complicated. “I convinced myself that I didn’t miss you two, but I was lying to myself,” she admits, and now that she’s putting it into words, Quinn realizes it might not be as complicated as it feels.

“You do that a lot, don’t you? Like in high school when you tried to pretend you were a pony instead of a unicorn.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at that, trying to figure out what Brittany’s actually saying before finally putting it together. “Well, I’m not pretending anymore. Not about that at least,” she replies with a half-smile before growing serious once more. “I’m working on the being-honest-with-myself thing.”

“That’s good,” Brittany says with a nod. “And I’ll work on trying to get Santana to put her claws away when it comes to you. I never liked it when you guys were fighting.”

“I never liked it either,” she agrees. “And thank you.”

“That’s what friends do, right?”

It stings, knowing how badly she messed up as a friend, but she’s still grateful to get a second chance.

Brittany takes a few sips of coffee as Quinn contemplates what to say next.

“So Rachel told me you’re an actuary now,” she says after Brittany puts down her cup again, still somewhat struggling to wrap her head about that fact. After all, she had to repeat senior year of high school.

“Yeah, it turns out I’m a total math genius. It’s the best job because it’s super easy and I make a lot of money. I bought Santana and myself an awesome apartment in Chelsea. You should come see it sometime.”

Quinn can’t stop the smile that forms at Brittany’s words. “I would love to.”

Knowing that Brittany wants to see her again in the future is a huge relief. Quinn knows she has a long way to go before she finally makes things right, but Brittany’s understanding and acceptance has made the path a little bit easier.


	28. Text Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Saturday, June 27, 2020**  
>  Rachel checks in with Quinn while she’s away and the conversation takes an interesting turn.

**RACHEL:** Hey, baby. I miss you.

**RACHEL:** How's the photoshoot?

**QUINN:** Hi, sweetie. I miss you too. Today's shoot went great.

**QUINN:** I wish you had been able to come with me this weekend. I just finished taking a shower, and it would have been so much better if you were with me. ;)

**RACHEL:** It's really not fair to tease me with that image when we're 1000 miles apart, Quinn. -_-

**RACHEL:** I wish I was there with you too, enjoying the gorgeous beaches...and a certain gorgeous blonde in nothing but a bikini.

**QUINN:** Sorry, Rach. I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I ended up in less than a bikini while on the beach today.

**RACHEL:** How much less?

**QUINN:** Mmm... bottoms only. But photos were taken from behind. You're the only one allowed to see the girls. ;)

**RACHEL:** I do really like the girls. ;)

**RACHEL:** I know the calendar is important to you, Quinn. The last one was tastefully done, and I trust your judgement. The world can have your photograph as long as I get you.

**QUINN:** I'm yours as long as you'll have me.

**QUINN:** I think you'll like the photos though. I can't wait for you to see them.

**RACHEL:** I know I'll like them. I'd rather see the real thing though.

**QUINN:** Soon.

**QUINN:** Just the thought of you seeing the real thing makes me miss you even more…

**QUINN:** How much time until your next show?

**RACHEL:** About two hours until I have to be in makeup.

**RACHEL:** Enough time for you to tell me exactly how much you miss me.

**QUINN:** I wish I could show you. I couldn't stop thinking about you while I was in the shower, and I got a little carried away. I'm still wet…

**RACHEL:** You were right.

**RACHEL:** That shower would have been so much better if I'd been there with you.

**RACHEL:** Are you also still naked?

**QUINN:** Yes. I didn't want to ruin a clean set of panties.

**QUINN:** I'm still wrapped in a towel though. I'll gladly take it off though if that's what you want me to do.

**RACHEL:** I do.

**RACHEL:** I want to imagine you with no barriers, missing me so much that you have to touch yourself.

**QUINN:** Towel's gone... it feels good touching myself, imagining it's you doing it.

**RACHEL:** Mmm. Tell me where your hand is, baby.

**QUINN:** Running over my breasts, sometimes teasing my nipples.

**RACHEL:** I can almost feel you beneath my fingertips.

**RACHEL:** The smooth heat of your skin as I trace the curves of your breasts, listening to your breath hitch when my nail scrapes over your beaded nipple.

**QUINN:** Fuck, Rachel. I feel like I could come just from having you touch me like this.

**RACHEL:** I love making you feel good, baby.

**RACHEL:** And I love the way you feel under my hands as I trail them down over your belly and hips, making you quiver while I worship your breasts with my tongue.

**RACHEL:** And then my fingers wander lower, feeling just how wet you are…

**QUINN:** Oh, God…

**QUINN:** It's all for you, baby. This is what you do to me.

**RACHEL:** You feel so good, Quinn.

**RACHEL:** I want to you to touch yourself exactly the way I would until you come for me.

**QUINN:** Fuck…

**QUINN:** I love feeling you inside me while you rub my clit. You're so good, Rach.

**QUINN:** And I'm so close.

**RACHEL:** I could push you over so easily, baby.

**RACHEL:** Kissing my way down your body until I replace my fingers with my tongue.

**RACHEL:** You're my very favorite flavor.

**QUINN:** The only thing I know is you and the feel of you. Your mouth is magic.

**QUINN:** It won't take long.

**QUINN:** Can I come now, Rachel?

**RACHEL:** Oh, yes, baby.

**RACHEL:** Come for me.

**QUINN:** Oh... god, so good... I'm coming...

**RACHEL:** Oh, wow. You're so beautiful when you come, Quinn.

**RACHEL:** Even via sext. ;D

**QUINN:** Holy shit. I…

**QUINN:** I came so hard. I'm still shaking.

**QUINN:** Even hundreds of miles away, you do the most amazing things to me.

**RACHEL:** Well, I *am* amazing.

**RACHEL:** But so are you, Quinn.

**RACHEL:** I need a shower of my own now. Preferably a cold one.

**QUINN:** Oops. Sorry about that, baby. ;)

**QUINN:** I'm more than happy to help you out with that when I get home... and right now, actually, if you'd like. :)

**RACHEL:** Mmm. I'm so tempted. It really wouldn't take much...

**RACHEL:** But I want this to be just for you.

**RACHEL:** And I should probably grab a quick dinner before I have to get back to the theatre. Maybe after my show tonight? If you're still awake, that is.

**RACHEL:** But either way, you're all mine when you get back home, Quinn Fabray.

**QUINN:** As you wish. :* And for you, of course I'll still be awake.

**QUINN:** But I'll let you go so you can get something to eat.

**QUINN:** Break a leg tonight, Rachel. I love you.  <3

**RACHEL:** I love you too, Quinn. And I can't wait to see you again.

**RACHEL:** I'll text you later. We can fall asleep together.  <3<3


	29. Old Friends and New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Monday, July 6, 2020**  
>  Rachel invites Santana and Brittany to have brunch with her and Quinn.

**RACHEL:** It’s been a fantastic weekend.

Quinn had returned from Turks and Caicos (with some very titillating photographs) in the middle of last week, and Rachel’s show schedule for Independence Day had given her a rare Saturday evening free to celebrate with Quinn (and celebrate they had), and because of the holiday, Quinn gets to have Monday off as well. She’s been staying in the city with Rachel all weekend—a lovely, long weekend of which they’ve taken full advantage. Rachel had only needed to tear herself away from Quinn to race off to her Sunday performances, but then she’d come home to a hot meal and an even hotter blonde.

Waking up together this morning had been perfection, so it’s little wonder that Rachel is suddenly second-guessing the decision to invite the more unpleasant aspects of their reality to come crashing into their blissful idyll. But Quinn claims that she’s ready for this—well, as ready as she can be when Rachel strongly suspects she’s mostly doing this to make her happy—and her meeting with Brittany earlier this month had gone well enough. But Santana is another creature entirely.

Rachel chews nervously on her lower lip as she watches Quinn putter around in her kitchen, feeling a little blossom of warmth in her chest at how comfortable Quinn is in her apartment. She wants to make sure she stays that way.

“Are you sure you still want to do this? Because it’s not too late to cancel.”

 **QUINN:** She’s busy cutting up fresh pineapple for a fruit salad—having volunteered to make brunch for her old friends—when Rachel asks her question. Quinn pauses, placing the knife down on the cutting board, and looks up, meeting Rachel’s concerned gaze and feeling herself relax a touch.

“I’d be lying if I said I was completely sure,” she admits, “but I need to do this. I’ve made so many mistakes in the past, Rachel, and I need to start making up for them.”

 **RACHEL:** With a nod of understanding, Rachel steps closer to her girlfriend, slipping her arms around Quinn’s waist. She can’t really argue the point, though Quinn’s reasons for keeping her distance had been valid—to her mind anyway. There’s nothing Rachel wants more than for Quinn to be able to reconnect with her—their—friends.

But—

“You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much?” she asks, gazing into Quinn’s eyes. “Because, honestly, I’m not sure which version of Santana is going to show up for brunch.”

Santana had promised to play nice (and Brittany had assured Rachel she’d make sure her wife keeps that promise) but Santana’s version of nice is making sure the only sharp object she brings into the room in her tongue.

 **QUINN:** “I promise,” Quinn replies. Her lips quirk up then. “And I can handle Santana.”

And it’s true, despite the sliver of worry Quinn spots in Rachel’s gaze. She and Santana have never had the most steady of friendships, but Quinn knows how to handle all sides of Santana—so long as she’s emotionally prepared.

Which she absolutely is this time. Their last encounter at the Jets Draft Party was kind of a sucker punch.

Rachel’s mouth opens, as if to object, but Quinn cuts her off—taking advantage of their proximity and capturing her girlfriend’s lips in a sweet kiss.

 **RACHEL:** Her concerns about what Quinn’s idea of handling Santana might entail fade into a fuzzy haze of unimportance the moment Quinn’s lips touch hers, and Rachel melts further into her girlfriend’s toned, freshly tanned body, welcoming her kiss. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to drag Quinn right back into her bedroom, and she’s once again second-guessing the invitation to Brittany and Santana for entirely different reasons.

Eventually, she manages to drag her mouth away from Quinn’s and decides to allow her deliberate attempt at a distraction to pass.

“Mmm. Okay then. What can I do to help you complete your culinary masterpiece?”

 **QUINN:** Her eyes flutter open, and Quinn already misses the feeling of her mouth against Rachel’s.

“Just make yourself comfortable. I’ve got it,” she insists, reluctantly releasing her hold on Rachel. “I won’t start making the omelets and imitation sausage until Brittany and Santana actually get here so that the food is warm.”

Having something to do will also help keep Quinn from immediately having to engage with Santana.

 **RACHEL:** “You’re so sexy when you cook vegetarian,” Rachel says cheekily, but really, she loves how willing Quinn has been to go meatless when she’s in Rachel’s company.

Quinn chuckles, shaking her head indulgently before she turns to pick up the knife again. Rachel snatches a piece of the pineapple before Quinn can go back to cutting it, popping it in her mouth as Quinn huffs out her name in warning and glares at her playfully.

Rachel smiles around the sweet tang of the fruit and leans back against the counter, content to watch Quinn work until their guests arrive.

 **QUINN:** She tries not to let herself get distracted by Rachel’s gaze and close proximity as she finishes cutting up the pineapple before adding it to the bowl that already contains fresh strawberries, watermelon, cantaloupe, and grapes.

Despite the ripple of nervousness at her impending reunion with Santana, Quinn is more content than she has been in a long time. This weekend was exactly what she needed, and Rachel’s apartment almost feels like a home away from home.

It’s sometimes hard to believe that she’s ended up here, but Quinn isn’t willing to let it go. She wants to make this last.

Quinn turns to look at Rachel and offers her a soft smile, feeling warmth blossom in her chest as her girlfriend returns it with a smile of her own.

A sharp knock interrupts the moment, and Quinn feels her nerves tick up as her gaze shifts toward the door.

 **RACHEL:** She’s been so thoroughly caught up in watching Quinn gracefully move around her kitchen that the sudden knock makes Rachel jump. She watches hazel eyes dart to the door in mild trepidation, and she offers Quinn a reassuring smile.

“We’ve got this,” she promises, as much for her own sake as for Quinn’s. Stepping closer, Rachel leans in to brush a soft kiss across Quinn’s cheek.

“I’m gonna go let them in before Santana beats down my door.”

There’s another knock just then—sharper than the first—to punctuate her point, and Rachel rolls her eyes at Santana’s predictable impatience.

“Come with me?” she prompts, holding out her hand to Quinn in invitation.

 **QUINN:** She takes Rachel’s hand without hesitation, feeling her nerves settle somewhat as they walk hand-in-hand toward the door. Quinn is hoping for the best but expecting the worst in regards to this latest meeting with Santana, but having Rachel (and Brittany) to act as a buffer is immeasurably helpful.

There’s yet another impatient knock, and Quinn can’t help but shake her head in mild amusement as Rachel goes to open the door, even though her hand involuntarily grips Rachel’s tighter.

 **RACHEL:** After taking a fortifying breath, Rachel pulls open the door to find Brittany wearing a wide smile and Santana—well, she finds Santana.

“Took you long enough,” Santana grumbles, accusatory gaze moving between Rachel and Quinn.

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Good morning to you too, Santana. Lovely to see you.”

“Yeah. Whatevs,” Santana responds flippantly, side-eying Quinn as she pushes past them into the apartment.

Rachel feels Quinn tense up even more, and she gives her hand a comforting squeeze. If Santana is already in bitch mode, then Rachel has no problem kicking her out right back out on her ass.

“Wow, you look so coupley,” Brittany chirps as she enters the apartment, pausing to tug Rachel into a crushing hug before doing the same to Quinn, who seems to relax at the contact.

“Yeah, well they should, Britts,” Santana chimes in with faux sweetness. “Quinnie Pooh’s had nearly a year to get all coupley with Rachel here. We just didn’t get an invite to see it until now.”

 **QUINN:** She feels her hackles rise at Santana’s comment, but Quinn bites her tongue, having mentally prepared for the worst. She doesn’t want to escalate things into a fight immediately, and, deep down, Quinn understands why Santana’s not exactly enamored with her.

Also, having Brittany’s arms still tightly wrapped around her in a hug helps keep her from verbally lashing out.

“Santana,” Brittany chides her wife as she releases her hold on Quinn and turns her gaze toward Santana. “You promised you wouldn’t let your claws out.”

“I said I would try,” Santana replies with a shrug before glaring at Quinn, who does her best to keep a poker face.

But out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Rachel is doing no such thing.

 **RACHEL:** “If you ever want another invitation, then you’ll try harder,” Rachel warns, taking a step forward and wrapping a protective arm around Quinn’s waist.

She knows Santana is still nursing her own hurt feelings that it’s taken this long for Quinn to agree to see her again, but how can she not see that this is exactly why.

“You’re one of my oldest friends, Santana, but Quinn is my girlfriend now. If you’re not willing to give her a chance…”

“I am, okay,” Santana cuts her off huffily, darting her eyes away, even as Brittany moves to her side, rubbing her arm supportively. “I mean, I’m here.”

Rachel knows it’s as much of an admission as Santana is willing to offer right now that wants to make things right with Quinn.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s touch is like an anchor, and Quinn unconsciously leans into it as she watches Brittany seemingly temper Santana’s ‘claws.’

“And I appreciate that,” Quinn says, knowing that it’s only fair that she extends the same effort.

Santana meets her eyes then, and Quinn can still see the distrust plain as day, but the hostility has lessened.

“I messed up,” she continues. “And I want to make things right.”

 **RACHEL:** Santana’s dark eyes assess Quinn for a long moment.

“You know that’s not gonna happen in a day, right?” Santana challenges. There’s no malice in the question—simply a delivery of the cold, hard facts. “I mean, you cut us out for six years.” Quinn purses her lips at the unnecessary reminder, giving a short, jerky nod of acknowledgement before Santana’s gaze darts to Rachel. “And you basically did the same for six months just because Quinn asked you to cover for her ass.”

“San,” Brittany warns softly.

“No, she’s right,” Rachel answers, feeling her own guilt flair up at having kept her relationship with Quinn a secret from her friends for so long. “I’m sorry that what I did hurt you, Santana. My only explanation is that I thought it was the right thing at the time.”

And if given a choice, she’d probably do the same again if that’s what Quinn needed her to do.

 **QUINN:** “I’m sorry too,” Quinn adds softly but emphatically, drawing Santana’s gaze back to hazel eyes. “And I know that this is going to take time. I need to earn your forgiveness.”

“I want to believe you, Quinn, I do,” Santana replies after a beat, curling her fingers around Brittany’s free hand. “But you cut me deep.”

Quinn swallows guiltily then. Even though she never meant to hurt anyone, that’s exactly what she did. It’s what she’s always done, it seems.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, wishing there were better words to convey.

 **RACHEL:** Santana sighs heavily, nodding. “I guess we’ll try this thing then.”

Brittany beams at her wife, and then not-so-subtly pokes her side. “Aaand,” she prompts.

Santana huffs out a put-upon breath. “And, you know, I’m sorry too,” she rushes out, averting her eyes away from Quinn. “For showing up at your Rah-Rah convention,” she clarifies with a roll of her eyes. “That wasn’t cool.”

“It really wasn’t,” Rachel agrees with a frown, remembering the panic she’d felt when Quinn disappeared that night. She glances at Quinn then, wondering if Santana’s version of an apology will be enough for her.

 **QUINN:** It wasn’t cool, but then Santana hadn’t intended to trigger Quinn. She was looking out for Rachel, in her uniquely Santana kind of way. Quinn understands that now, and she’s glad that Rachel has someone like that in her life.

“Apology accepted,” she replies sincerely, earning a stiff nod from Santana, another pleased look from Brittany, and Rachel relaxing her hold around Quinn’s waist.

 **RACHEL:** First potential landmine sidestepped, Rachel feels some of her tension melt away. “This is good,” she decides, smiling at Quinn before glancing back to Santana and Brittany. “We can move on from our past mistakes and start fresh.”

Brittany claps her hands in enthusiastic agreement. “Yay. We can all be friends again.”

Santana rolls her eyes again. “Yeah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, babe,” she warns her wife, strolling further into the living room and eyeing Quinn on her way. “But-I’m-A-Cheerleader here has a ways to go before she earns my forgiveness. But I’m game to let her turn some cartwheels for me in the meantime.”

 **QUINN:** She purses her lips and tries to let Santana’s words roll off her back despite the way they get under her skin. After all, it’s exactly what Quinn promised she would do—put in the effort to make things right.

“Fair enough,” Quinn agrees after a beat. “As for cartwheels, I’m pretty good in the kitchen. What kind of omelets would everyone like?”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn already knows how Rachel likes her omelets, so she decides to let her friends place their orders, which Brittany happily does.

“Put lots of cheese in mine,” she instructs, snagging Santana’s hand on her way to the sofa. “Like, an omelet fondue.” She practically falls back into the cushions with a graceful bounce before tugging Santana down beside her.

Santana’s expression softens as she settles next to her wife—hands still joined together. “Throw some cheese in mine too. And whatever meat you managed to smuggle past Berry.”

 **QUINN:** She smirks slightly at Santana’s request. There is zero actual meat in Rachel’s apartment, but Quinn is curious if she can trick Santana into thinking some of the fake ham is the real thing.

Turning to face Rachel, Quinn wraps her arm around her girlfriend’s waist and leans in to softly say, “Go relax and enjoy yourself while I go turn cartwheels.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn fails to mention to Santana that she’s only cooking with meat substitutes today, and Rachel suppresses a grin as she gazes at her sneaky girlfriend.

Rachel has managed to grit her teeth and fry up some bacon for her friends in the past, of course, but it’s typically been a way to butter them up when she’s needed to ask for their help with something or to apologize for something she’s done wrong—like not telling them about Quinn for nearly six months. And she’s also cooked it for Quinn as a means of impressing her, but Quinn had volunteered to be in charge of brunch today, and Rachel had happily embraced the opportunity to let Quinn take over her kitchen—which remains blissfully meat-free today.

“Thanks, baby,” Rachel murmurs, bouncing onto her toes to brush a quick kiss across Quinn’s cheek. “Although,” she considers, pulling back with a smirk of her own, “I do enjoy watching you flex those cartwheel-turning muscles.”

She’s rewarded with an almost bashful smile and the slight pinkening of Quinn’s cheeks—and Santana’s muttered, “So freaking charming.”

Brittany bumps her shoulder into Santana. “Don’t be mean,” she chastises lowly before smiling at Rachel and Quinn. “I think you guys are cute together. And super hot. I’m glad Rachel found you again, Quinn.”

 **QUINN:** “Me too,” she agrees with a soft smile, face still warm from Rachel’s comment.

Quinn doesn’t miss Santana rolling her eyes, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything.

Rachel presses one more kiss against Quinn’s cheek before happily joining her friends in the living room.

‘So far, so good,’ Quinn thinks as she moves back into the kitchen and gets to work on making the rest of brunch. As she cracks and whisks the eggs into a bowl, Quinn can’t help but keep an ear on the conversation in the living room.

 **RACHEL:** Sinking down into the chair that’s adjacent to the sofa, Rachel smiles happily at her friends. “I want to thank you both again for giving Quinn another chance.”

“Yeah, well…it’s not like we really have a choice if we want to hang out with you,” Santana grumbles, making Brittany’s amiable grin falter slightly. “You’re practically super-glued to her when you’re not at the theater.”

“I’m not,” Rachel denies with a frown—although she does spend as much of her free time with Quinn as she’s able to.

“You shouldn’t use Super Glue,” Brittany advises seriously. “It’s a really bad sex toy. Trust me.”

Rachel pauses, trying to shake off the mental image, while Santana only shakes her head.

“Look. I get it, okay,” Santana continues lowly. “She’s still hot, and you finally get a chance at the original model instead of dating those bitchy imitations.” Rachel’s frown deepens at Santana’s unfiltered assessment of the women she’s dated since she came out, and she spares a quick glance to the kitchen to see if Quinn is listening. Her girlfriend is still whisking eggs, so Rachel assumes that she’s not paying close attention. “And, yeah, I’m giving her a chance,” Santana assures her again, “but just know it’s gonna be a long time before I can really trust her.”

With a sigh, Rachel slumps back into her chair. “I know,” she concedes sullenly, wishing Santana could be as affable as Brittany.

 **QUINN:** It’s hard not to feel guilty and angry at herself for letting things get so messed up with her oldest friends, even though intellectually Quinn completely gets it. Hell, she’d probably feel exactly the same way as Santana does if the roles were reversed.

Quinn starts cooking the omelets, and as she does, she tries to remember what she and Dr. Herrara have been talking about in therapy—focusing on the opportunity she has now and that her feelings of guilt and anger won’t last forever—and she feels some of her frustration subside.

 **RACHEL:** “What Santana is trying to say…”

“I said what I was trying to say.”

“…is that we really just want you to be happy,” Brittany finishes, ignoring her wife’s petulant interruption. “And you seem happy. I mean, you don’t look super happy right now,” she observes with a pout, “but I know that’s because Santana is being all growly. You looked really happy when we first got here though.”

Rachel feels her lips curve upwards again—because Brittany is right. “I am happy. Quinn makes me happy.”

Brittany nods, smiling again, completely validated in her opinion. But Santana—

“Guess crazy cheerleader Barbie’s as good in the bedroom as she seem to be in the kitchen,” she muses with an obnoxious smirk.

And Rachel isn’t quite certain if the heat she feels crawling up her neck is embarrassment or irritation. She really, really hopes Quinn can’t hear them over the sound of sizzling eggs.

 **QUINN:** She raises an eyebrow at Santana’s latest comment, trying to let the “crazy” part roll off her back, which is kind of easy when she thinks of just how many times she made Rachel come this weekend.

“It’s true, I am pretty good in the kitchen,” Quinn agrees, lifting her gaze and sending a smirk of her own in Santana’s direction.

“Oh, I remember,” she replies before leaning into her wife’s body. “But no one is better at cooking than Brits.”

“Wait, are we actually talking about cooking?” Brittany asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Because I still find recipes confusing.”

 **RACHEL:** They’re absolutely not talking about the kitchen, Rachel realizes with a flush of definite irritation this time as she’s forced to remember that Santana had once (twice, damn it!) experienced Quinn’s ‘kitchen’ skills first hand. And of course Quinn would be listening to them for that!

“No, we are not,” Rachel answers Brittany before frowning at Santana. “But I assure you that Quinn doesn’t need to be drunk to cook in my kitchen.

 **QUINN:** “Ouch, Berry,” Santana replies. “You make it sound like I take advantage of women. I’m not Puckerman.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow at the reminder of her disaster of a first time. The only good thing to come from that was Beth, but everything before that was pretty much hell.

“Thank God for that,” Quinn agrees before turning her attention back to finishing the omelets. Liquid courage definitely helped give Quinn the push to flirt and dance with Santana that night, but unlike with Puck, she was the one in control the entire time.

Not that any of this matters now. She’s with Rachel, and there’s nothing else like being intimate with someone she loves and trusts.

 **RACHEL:** “Of course you’re nothing like Noah,” Rachel admits a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. But some of us would prefer not to be reminded of your…cooking lessons,” she supplies with a wry smile, carrying on with the ridiculous euphemism, “with Quinn.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Santana concedes, rolling her own eyes. “But, I mean, it’s not like you’re not benefiting.” She gestures toward Quinn. “Someone had to unpress that lemon.”

“I unpressed myself, thank you very much,” Quinn calls out.

“Not how I remember it, Blondie.”

“Your wife is sitting right there,” Rachel reminds Santana in exasperation.

“Oh, it’s cool,” Brittany dismisses with an unconcerned wave. “I know Quinn was just the next best blonde. And Santana was, like, the next best brunette. Right, Quinn?” she directs to Quinn in the kitchen.

Rachel’s eyebrow inches up as she glances at Quinn, curious to hear what she’ll say.

 **QUINN:** She’s not sure what’s more uncomfortable—Santana being pissed at her or the fact that her two-time thing with Santana is now being discussed so casually. Granted, it’s just Brittany and Santana who are being nonchalant about it. Even only seeing her girlfriend from behind, Quinn can tell that Rachel’s not exactly enjoying this.

“No,” Quinn says with a shake of her head. And yes, part of what Brittany says is true—there were moments when she forgot it was Santana between her legs because she wanted so badly for it to be Rachel. “No offense, Santana, but Rachel is—and always has been—in another stratosphere. No one else comes close.”

 **RACHEL:** When Quinn says ‘no,’ Rachel’s whole body goes tense. For just a moment, she actually imagines Quinn might be admitting that she’d had some sort of real feelings for Santana on that wretched night, but then she goes on to imply that Santana wasn’t even a close second choice, and—

Rachel blushes, feeling warm all over despite the conversation having rapidly swirled into the gutter thanks to Santana’s need to keep poking a metaphorical stick at Quinn. And probably at Rachel too for her months of lying and evading and avoiding.

She smiles adoringly at Quinn. “The feeling is very mutual,” she tells her girlfriend, watching her return the smile as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before turning back to her food preparation.

“You two are gonna make me lose my appetite,” Santana grumbles.

Rachel turns to flash a smug smile at Santana, surprised to find something that looks suspiciously like grudging approval on her face, and the somewhat bitchy retort she’d planned dies on her lips.

Brittany pats Santana on the leg, grinning. “I think they’re kinda sweet. And I’m totally hungry.”

 **QUINN:** Her cheeks are flush from Rachel’s compliment, but Quinn is still focused on the task at hand. “Good, because breakfast is ready,” she declares before placing each omelet onto a plate, adding generous helpings of potatoes and fake sausage.

Having finished preparing breakfast, Quinn glances up then, meeting Rachel’s attentive gaze, and she feels herself practically melt.

And for the millionth time, Quinn wonders how she got so lucky. Not just with Rachel, but getting a second chance with Santana and Brittany—the former obviously being a challenge, but for reasons Quinn can’t help but admire.

 **RACHEL:** Brittany bounces off the sofa almost immediately, tugging Santana up with her, and Rachel smiles at her friends. Even with Santana being stubbornly difficult as usual, she’s so glad that they’re finally getting a chance to spend time together with Quinn.

Rachel has been a fifth wheel with her happily married friends for too long. Neither Kurt nor Santana had particularly liked Riley very much—at least, not after they’d found out how snippy and controlling she could be whenever her jealous streak was roused. And of course, Riley had never wanted to act too coupley in public since she’s not really out. And none of the people Rachel had dated before meeting Quinn again had felt important enough to warrant an invitation to spend time with her friends.

She really wants this to work out—for Quinn to become a part of their group again, and not just because she’s Rachel’s significant other. She thinks it could be good for Quinn. Or, well—she hopes it might be.

Hopefully, today will the start of Quinn truly reconnecting with their old friends and putting the past behind her.


	30. Text Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Friday, July 24, 2020**  
>  Rachel confronts Quinn after learning that she had lied to her.

**RACHEL:** Quinn. Did you or did you not insinuate to me that you did not remember that Hayley person who claimed to have met you at Yale?

 **RACHEL:** Because, having skimmed over your blog just now, it would seem that you do, in fact, recall meeting her.

 **RACHEL:** Intimately!!

 **QUINN:** Rachel, I'm sorry.

 **QUINN:** I never thought Hayley would actually try to contact me.

 **QUINN:** I wanted to leave that part of my past in the past. I was afraid of how you might react... that you'd have second thoughts about being with me.

 **RACHEL:** So you thought lying to me would be okay as long as you didn't get caught?

 **RACHEL:** I know you hate talking about that period of your life but, Quinn, it's part of you. It happened.

 **RACHEL:** I'd rather you be the one to tell me about your demons than have one of them come back to slap in the face this way.

 **QUINN:** No, I didn't think it was okay to lie. I let my fears get the better of me. Again.

 **QUINN:** I'm sorry, Rachel. There's a lot I'm not proud of. Add this to the list.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn, you have to talk to me about these things. We're supposed to be in this together.

 **RACHEL:** Is...is this what you did with Hayley? Keep her in the dark about the parts of yourself you weren't proud of until you disappeared on her completely?

 **RACHEL:** Were you in love with her?

 **QUINN:** No, I wasn't in love with her. Rachel, I've never been in love with anyone but you.

 **QUINN:** I wasn't always honest with Hayley, but I wasn't myself at all when I knew her.

 **QUINN:** It was the spring of sophomore year, and I was... in a really bad place.

 **RACHEL:** A place that you still haven't told me about in any real detail. So forgive me if I feel left in the dark right now.

 **RACHEL:** And it seems that Hayley was in love with you.

 **RACHEL:** Or still is.

 **QUINN:** I didn't think she was... I didn't think anyone could love me.

 **QUINN:** Everything was so messy. Because I was a mess.

 **QUINN:** Again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.

 **QUINN:** Can I see you tonight? Please?

 **RACHEL:** Are you finally going to tell me what happened before you were diagnosed?

 **QUINN:** Is that the only way you'll let me see you?

 **RACHEL:** Oh, Quinn. Of course not.

 **RACHEL:** But I really wish you would.

 **QUINN:** Okay, I'll tell you. I will. I never want to lie to you again.

 **RACHEL:** I don't want you to be afraid to tell me the truth about your past, Quinn. I love you. I want to be with you, but you have to trust me - trust what we have.

 **QUINN:** I love you too. And I do trust you.

 **QUINN:** I just... sometimes I hate myself so much, and I'm afraid it will make you hate me too.

 **RACHEL:** I will never hate you, Quinn. I don't think I'm capable of it.

 **RACHEL:** I never have been.

 **RACHEL:** But I really do need you to be honest with me from now on when something or someone from your past finds its way into our present.

 **RACHEL:** Can you meet me at my apartment after my show? I think we should continue this conversation in person.

 **QUINN:** I'll be there. Is it okay if I let myself in?

 **RACHEL:** Of course. That's why I gave you a key.

 **RACHEL:** I'll see you soon.

 **QUINN:** Thank you. I'll see you soon.

 **QUINN:** I love you.

 **RACHEL:** I love you too, Quinn.


	31. Jealousy and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Friday, July 24, 2020**  
>  After getting caught in a lie, Quinn tries to make things right with Rachel while also revealing some darker parts of her past.

**QUINN:** She arranges a bouquet of flowers in a vase before placing them on Rachel’s kitchen table. Quinn glances at the clock and feels her nerves increase, knowing that her girlfriend will be returning any minute. She bites her lower lip and stares at her meager attempt at an apology. She hopes the gesture will be appreciated, although she’s very much prepared for it not to be, and she wouldn’t blame Rachel for one second.

Quinn messed up, dug herself into another hole of her own making, and now has to climb out.

It’s not that she forgot about Hayley. How could she? Quinn’s relationship with Hayley and the way she treated her are some of her most shameful memories. But no matter how much she wishes otherwise, her past always has a way of coming back to bite her. Quinn knows Rachel will never look at her the same way when she learns the truth about what she did.

 **RACHEL:** Well, today has pretty much sucked.

Finding out that Quinn had lied to her about knowing that Hayley person was an unexpected knife in her heart. Rachel still doesn’t quite know what to think. She’s angry and hurt and confused and—yes, jealous.

She wants to believe that the jealousy, at least, is unwarranted, that whatever dalliance Quinn had had with Hayley in New Haven is well in the past, but it’s hard to convince herself of that when Quinn had gone out of her way to mislead Rachel instead of simply admitting the truth.

So, yes, she’s jealous.

And she’s hurt. Because despite her claims to the contrary, Quinn obviously still doesn’t trust Rachel—trust that she’ll accept the darker parts of Quinn’s past.

And, damn it, she’s angry that Quinn had outright lied to her! Her persistent self-loathing and fear of rejection isn’t an excuse that Rachel can fully accept, even if she is trying to understand it.

Rachel never wants to be blindsided like this again, and she certainly never again wants to be so distracted during a performance that she barely remembers a moment of it. Tonight’s audience certainly didn’t get the best of Rachel Berry. Stephanie had asked her more than once if something was wrong, but Rachel just couldn’t talk about it with her.

She’s not even entirely certain that she really wants to talk about it with Quinn right now, but she knows they do need to talk.

So Rachel hesitates for just a moment outside of her apartment door, knowing that Quinn is probably inside, before she takes a fortifying breath and opens the door.

 **QUINN:** The doorknob clicks, and Quinn involuntarily holds her breath as her gaze darts toward the entryway of the apartment, watching as the door opens, revealing her girlfriend.

Quinn’s stomach churns with guilt the moment Rachel walks through the apartment door. Hurt, brown eyes bore into Quinn, and her hand unconsciously grips the back of a kitchen chair.

“Hi, Rachel,” she offers softly, tentatively, wanting to reach for her girlfriend and soothe her but knowing she can’t because she’s the one that caused this.

 **RACHEL:** The moment she sees Quinn, looking so scared and remorseful, Rachel feels the sting behind her eyes as surely as she still feels it in her heart. She tries to return the greeting, but the words don’t come, and she finds herself dragging in another breath instead as she blinks back the tears that she refuses to let fall.

Swallowing heavily, she manages a jerky nod as she tosses her purse on the table and wills her legs to carry her closer to Quinn. Her eyes catch on the flowers sitting on the table, and she idly wonders if those are supposed to magically make everything better even as she reaches out a hand to lightly finger one of the petals. They really are lovely, but, “I’m still upset with you, Quinn,” she admits quietly.

There really is no way around that, and she shakes her head sadly as she finally turns her gaze to Quinn’s sorrowful expression.

“I don’t know what to do with the fact that your first instinct is still to lie and keep me in the dark rather than trust me to accept your past mistakes.”

 **QUINN:** “I’m sorry,” she says automatically, knowing that the words are inadequate even though she means them. “I didn’t mean to lie,” she continues, repeating what she told Rachel via text.

Her girlfriend’s expression morphs then—disapproval swirling in brown eyes as pink lips curve down—and Quinn runs a nervous hand through short, blonde hair.

“But I did lie,” she admits, tearing her eyes away from Rachel’s reproachful gaze. “And there’s no excuse for that. I know. I just…”

Hazel eyes look up at the ceiling before meeting Rachel’s once more. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can say to make things right.”

 **RACHEL:** The words ‘there isn’t’ are on the tip of Rachel’s tongue, but she bites them back, knowing they wouldn’t be productive, and despite her anger at being lied to, she does want to be able to forgive Quinn and work through the obstacles that they obviously still have in their relationship.

“You can start by promising me that this won’t happen again…that you’ll tell me the truth even when you think I won’t like what I’m hearing.”

 **QUINN:** “I promise,” she pleads, meaning those words despite the trepidation she feels.

Telling the truth in this instance isn’t going to be fun, and Rachel definitely isn’t going to like hearing it, but Quinn needs to fix this.

“I’ll tell you everything,” she promises, unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice completely.

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s anxiety is palpable, and it’s obvious to Rachel that Quinn doesn’t really want to tell her anything but feels that she has no choice. Rachel feels a tiny twinge of guilt but not enough to let Quinn continue to keep these secrets from her indefinitely. That’s what had put them in this position to begin with.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Rachel pulls out a chair from the table and sits down, placing her hands on the tabletop as she gazes up at Quinn expectantly. “Tell me about Hayley,” she prompts, bracing for whatever it is she’s about to hear and silently vowing to keep her jealousy in check.

 **QUINN:** She mimics Rachel and pulls out the chair that she’s had a death grip on for the last several minutes, and the memories of Hayley—from what she can remember—wash over her as she settles down in her seat.

“Hayley is my ex-girlfriend,” Quinn replies after a beat, watching Rachel’s expression carefully and noticing how her lips thin and eyes narrow ever so slightly. “The relationship lasted about four months, and it was a disaster because my bipolar was still unchecked,” she admits, wringing her hands together in her lap. “I was just starting to swing into a manic episode when we met, and I got worse over time… I treated her terribly.”

 **RACHEL:** The confirmation that Hayley was, in fact, a girlfriend and not some brief, meaningless fling makes Rachel feel a little sick. She’s fully aware that Quinn had every right to have actual relationships during the time she hadn’t been in Rachel’s life—just as Rachel had had several boyfriends and girlfriends in those years—and had Quinn been honest with her from the beginning, Rachel’s own insecurities might not be rearing their destructive heads right about now, but the fact that Quinn had tried to keep Hayley a secret is making Rachel doubt everything Quinn has told her.

She folds her hands together on the table, clenching her fingers together as she tries to stay composed.

“Did she know? About…about what happened to you? That you tried to…” she trails off, unable to fully give voice to Quinn’s attempt to drown herself. Rachel doesn’t know why it matters to her, but it does. She wants to know exactly where Hayley fits into that tumultuous period of Quinn’s life when she’d disappeared from Rachel’s.

 **QUINN:** She shakes her head as her stomach dips once more. “No. I didn’t confide in her about those sorts of things. I just wanted to feel good, to feel that rush of being alive.”

Quinn lowers her gaze to Rachel’s clasped hands, unable to keep looking her girlfriend in the eye. “I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t in my right mind. We had a lot of fun together at first, but I didn’t… at the time, I couldn’t fathom consequences for things I said and did.”

 **RACHEL:** She’s never actually seen Quinn in full-blown manic episode. Rachel is far more acquainted with the depression. The mixed episode that Quinn had experienced months ago had been corrected with medication fairly quickly, though it had hurt Rachel to see it happening at the time, but even that had seemed to Rachel more like depression than anything else.

“I don’t really understand,” Rachel admits after a moment of Quinn’s silence. “What exactly do you think you did that you’re so afraid to tell me about, Quinn? Because it seems to me from Hayley’s messages to you that the only thing that seemed to hurt her was your sudden disappearance from her life.”

She doesn’t fail to notice the way Quinn winces slightly at those words. They both know she’d pulled the same kind of disappearing act on Rachel and everyone else in her life save her mother. Rachel can only imagine how much worse that would have felt had she actually been in love with Quinn at the time.

And, damn it, she doesn’t want to be suddenly sympathizing with Hayley!

 **QUINN:** She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath. ‘Rachel wants the truth,’ she reminds herself. ‘I can trust her. I _do_ trust her.’

Despite that, it doesn’t really make Quinn feel any more at ease. Cautiously, she opens her eyes once more and glances up at her girlfriend’s face—and her confusion and frustration is clear as day.

“I was all take and no give,” Quinn begins, trying to find the words to explain. “I was constantly chasing the next high, and Hayley got sucked in. We partied a lot.” She bites her lower lip, wanting to spare those details from Rachel—drinking, drugs, gambling, impromptu getaways, and sex. Quinn pushed Hayley to her edge and then some. It was all such a rush.

“I acted impulsively, spending money I didn’t have on whatever I wanted in the moment. Taking whatever and whoever I wanted, so long as it made me feel good… with no regard to how that would affect me or anyone else.”

 **RACHEL:** Quinn’s words begin to paint a picture in Rachel’s mind that she’d admittedly rather not have, but it’s better that she knows what’s hiding in Quinn’s past so she can better understand everything that could potentially happen should Quinn ever have another episode.

Still—she’s imagining all sorts of dangerous behaviors that, frankly, make her stomach churn and her heart ache.

“Were those highs you were chasing…actual highs?” Rachel asks carefully. “Like…drugs?”

 **QUINN:** “Sometimes, yes,” she replies after a beat, not exactly proud of that fact. “Like I said, we partied a lot. Drinking, doing things like coke and Molly. I didn’t always party with Hayley though…”

Quinn trails off, and her heart pangs with guilt. “She was way too forgiving of my transgressions,” she confesses, hoping Rachel isn’t going to ask her to continue spelling out said transgressions.

 **RACHEL:** “You cheated on her,” Rachel supplies, having already surmised as much from what Quinn had said about taking whomever she wanted. It certainly doesn’t please her to know, but she’s more upset about the drug use and the potentially dangerous situations that Quinn might have put herself in.

“But you…you weren’t yourself then.”

 **QUINN:** No, she wasn’t herself then, but Quinn can’t shake that this is part of her nature and she’ll inevitably succumb to it. After all, her father wasn’t so different at times… it runs in the family after all. And it’s that fact that has sent things crashing down in Quinn’s world more than once.

“I wasn’t,” Quinn agrees quietly. “But it’s still no excuse for what I did.”

 **RACHEL:** “No, it isn’t,” Rachel acknowledges, watching the guilt and self-recrimination play across Quinn’s face. “And it breaks my heart to know that you did those things, Quinn,” she admits sadly, “but all of that happened before you were correctly diagnosed, didn’t it?”

Rachel is fairly certain she remembers Quinn telling her that her initial misdiagnosis of depression and the drugs she’d been given for that is what actually triggered her first true manic episode.

“You didn’t have the right tools to be able to make healthy decisions at the time.”

 **QUINN:** She nods reluctantly. Quinn knows Rachel isn’t wrong, but once she’s this far in her guilt, it’s hard to get out of it.

“I wasn’t diagnosed until after I last saw Hayley. We got into a huge fight,” Quinn explains, mentally wincing as she remembers how distraught and tear-stricken Hayley was, and how utterly incapable Quinn was of grasping anything but her own immediate emotions. “And then I did something beyond stupid. I tried to find my dad. Because I thought if I could just…”

Quinn rubs at her eyes roughly then before burying her head in her hands. It didn’t make sense to her the first time she explained it to Dr. Herrara, and she doubts it will make sense now. All she knows is that she hates thinking about it.

 **RACHEL:** Heart aching for Quinn—and stomach churning even more with apprehension at the mention of Russell Fabray—Rachel unfolds her hands and reaches for her girlfriend, shuffling her chair closer as she rubs her palm over Quinn’s arm in a gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmurs softly. “I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me,” she promises, silently vowing to listen to whatever Quinn has to tell her and try not to judge her too harshly for a past that can’t be changed.

 **QUINN:** Rachel’s touch is unexpected but oh so welcome. It’s an anchor that tethers and grounds her enough to find some clarity in the rocky waters of her memories.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but my dad and I are very much alike,” Quinn says, voice quiet and rough around the edges. “In all the bad ways. I didn’t have the words or understanding for it then, but I had this notion—confront him, get him to… I don’t know, admit it was all his fault, even though that wouldn’t be enough—but somehow I thought it would quell the emotions broiling inside me.”

 **RACHEL:** “You’re nothing like that man, Quinn,” Rachel is compelled to say.

She’d never had the displeasure of knowing Quinn’s father personally, but she’d heard enough about him from various people like Santana and Finn to have developed a strong dislike for the man. And any man who would throw his pregnant sixteen year old daughter out on the street without any concern for where she would end up isn’t someone who deserves the privilege of being a parent.

 **QUINN:** “I am though,” she argues. “Dr. Herrara thinks he probably has a mood disorder, and it’s been a disruptive force in my life.” And his, she adds silently. Her doctor obviously can’t diagnose a person she’s never met, but it would explain a lot.

“He has a temper that I don’t have, but the way I treated Hayley… how is that any different than how he treated my mom? It’s part of why I disappeared on her… besides the fact that I was indisposed for that entire summer.” Quinn shakes her head and takes in Rachel’s confused and worried expression. “Sorry, I know I’m jumping around a lot.”

 **RACHEL:** Drawing in a careful breath, Rachel nods slowly as she tries to digest what Quinn is telling her. She still doesn’t want to believe that Quinn is like Russell Fabray in any way that really matters, but because she doesn’t actually know the man, she supposes that she’ll have to accept Quinn’s assessment of the situation—keeping in mind that Quinn is very often more critical of herself than she has a reason to be.

“I’m sorry for interrupting. I know this is hard for you, Quinn,” Rachel concedes. “So just take your time and tell me what happened when you went to see your father.”

 **QUINN:** “Don’t be sorry,” she counters with a soft shake of her head before gazing at Rachel meaningfully. “I appreciate you trying to understand.”

Quinn lets out another sigh before biting her lower lip for a moment. “Might as well get all of this out there then,” she says, voice filled with trepidation. “I need to back up a bit, to when this manic episode first started. It was before I bet Hayley… around Christmas. My dad got in contact with my mom. He wanted to see us. My mom agreed. Needless to say, I was pretty pissed off.”

 **RACHEL:** She doesn’t blame Quinn in the least for that. Rachel would have been pretty pissed too under the circumstances—in fact, she’s pissed now on Quinn’s behalf.

“Is that when you were living with your mom in Milford?” Rachel asks, trying to fit this in between the bits and pieces that Quinn has already told her about her past.

 **QUINN:** “We hadn’t moved to Milford yet,” she explains. “My mom and I had a place in New Haven at the time, but it was a bit of a drive to Yale’s campus. So when my dad started coming around again, I stayed away.” That spring semester, if Quinn wasn’t sleeping in Hayley’s bed, she was sleeping in someone else’s.

“I didn’t want to deal with him, you know? But he kept forcing the issue—wanted to work things out with my mom, but always finding ways to criticize me while also being weirdly generous. I mean, he bought me a new car.”

Rachel’s eyes have a fire in them, but there’s also some confusion there.

“Of course, I was ‘ungrateful’ according to him. We got into a huge argument on Christmas,” Quinn continues, remembering the yelling, the broken lamp, and her mother crying. Her father never laid a hand on her growing up, but that didn’t stop him from being physically intimidating. “It just set me off… pushed me into a manic phase, which got worse and worse as time went on, until finally I went to confront him months later. And it was… really, really bad,” she finishes, swallowing thickly and gathering herself as Rachel runs a soothing thumb over Quinn’s arm.

 **RACHEL:** She listens as Quinn tells her about her father, feeling her dislike for the man grow. He’d cast Quinn away when she was at her most vulnerable and then waited years before reappearing at a time when it seems that Quinn had most needed peace and stability.

“What happened?” Rachel prompts softly, continuing to rub tiny circles over Quinn’s skin.

 **QUINN:** “I went to his office—since he and my mom had rekindled things, he had relocated to New Haven. It was a small accounting firm… I think maybe five people worked there,” Quinn says, bowing her head and letting out a sigh as her brow furrows in recollection.

“I was literally out of my mind, and I was so, so angry,” she recounts for Rachel. Some of that day is hazy, but the emotion was so raw. “I confronted him, caused a scene. He was so calm, and that made me even more pissed off. Then he made a comment about how it’s a good thing I gave up my ‘bastard child’ because I’m a disgrace.”

Rachel sucks in a breath as Quinn’s fists clench. “I lost it. Literally. I hit him. And then the police showed up…”

Since then, Quinn has surmised that one of her dad’s coworkers must have called them shortly after Quinn stormed in.

Shame once again bubbles up as she brokenly admits, “I was completely out of control, and I had to be forcibly restrained. After that, I was involuntarily admitted to an inpatient facility.”

 **RACHEL:** Her hand on Quinn’s arm goes still as she bites back a pained whimper. Knowing how deeply Quinn loves Beth—how much her decision to give her daughter up for adoption had torn her to pieces—Rachel can understand exactly how purposely hurtful her father’s words had been. Still—the image of Quinn actually hitting the man calls up another unpleasant memory of a certain bathroom during a certain prom that Rachel tries to shake off but can’t quite.

Rachel can’t help wondering just how much of Quinn’s behavior in high school had been unknowingly influenced by her disorder.

And the knowledge that Quinn had been effectively arrested and carted away—

“That’s… I’m so sorry,” she whispers, at a loss for what else she can say.

 **QUINN:** She drags in a breath, trying to shake off the unpleasant memories to no avail.

“Thanks,” Quinn offers quietly, meeting Rachel’s concerned gaze. “I pray that I never get that bad again. And I’m sorry for keeping all of this from you. I just… I didn’t want to scare you or have you think less of me.”

 **RACHEL:** Swallowing heavily, Rachel takes a breath as she considers everything that Quinn has told her.

“I don’t think less of you,” she assure Quinn. She’d already been aware that Quinn had spiraled into a dark place before she’d been properly diagnosed—she just hadn’t known the details.

And now she can’t vanquish the memory of Quinn resorting to violence from her mind.

“But,” she begins hesitantly, licking her lips as her gaze darts away from Quinn and down at the tabletop, “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t just a little bit scared.”

She doesn’t ever want Quinn to end up back in that place where she’s so out of control.

 **QUINN:** She nods sadly, but she’s not surprised by Rachel’s admission. It scares Quinn just to think about being in that space, and she can only imagine how scary it is for people that come into her orbit when she’s like that.

“I wish I could promise you that I’ll never get like that again, but I can’t,” Quinn says regretfully. “But I can say that even though I’ve had some lows and highs since then, it’s never been as extreme. Thank God for lithium.”

 **RACHEL:** She tries to reassure herself with the knowledge that Quinn is good about taking her medication, but being with Quinn means accepting that she might spiral back into a dark place like that. Rachel hopes she can be strong enough to ride it out, but she’s not sure how she’d react if Quinn did the things to her that she’d done to Hayley.

“I love you, Quinn, and I’m in this with you,” Rachel promises, “but I have to be honest with you.” She pauses taking another breath and noticing Quinn’s hitch while fear begins to color her expression. “I’m not sure I could forgive you for…for cheating…episode or no episode,” she admits regretfully. “I’m already having some trouble with the lying.”

 **QUINN:** “I wouldn’t forgive myself for cheating on you. Or doing anything to hurt you,” she says emphatically, and it’s the truth. Being in a dark place mentally isn’t an excuse for anything she does that might hurt Rachel.

Quinn curls one hand around Rachel’s then and gazes at her apologetically. “And I am so sorry for lying… I was trying _not_ to hurt you, but I realize that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I promise I’ll tell you these things from now on.”

 **RACHEL:** For the first time, Rachel feels like Quinn is actually making that promise because she truly understands that trying to hide or sugarcoat her past can only end up being more damaging to their relationship and not because she’s simply trying to appease Rachel after getting caught in her lie.

“I accept your apology,” Rachel offers, even though she still doesn’t feel completely settled with the situation. But she can see that Quinn is truly sorry, and Rachel is a few steps further down the path to forgiving her now that she’s heard more of her story.

Quinn squeezes her hand, offering her a faintly relieved smile. Rachel tries to return it, but she suspects it might fall just a little bit short, because—

“Now I think we need to talk about Hayley,” she reluctantly voices.

If Quinn’s ex is even half as persistent as Rachel had been when she’d stumbled over Quinn at that Jets game last October, then the woman isn’t going to quietly disappear now that she’s found Quinn again—no matter how much Rachel wishes she would.

 **QUINN:** The small measure of relief Quinn felt at Rachel’s acceptance of her apology is squashed the instant her ex-girlfriend is mentioned again.

“She wants to see me—wants an explanation about what happened all those years ago,” Quinn confirms, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I do owe her that and an apology, but I don’t want to upset you either. Hayley is squarely in my past, but you are my present… and hopefully, my future.”

 **RACHEL:** Her first instinct is to ask Quinn not to see her ex. Rachel can’t really help it—she’s always had a hard time ignoring her jealous streak in the presence of a romantic rival. Add in the lingering insecurities about her appearance and her desirability that had been born in her adolescence and it’s a recipe for potential disaster.

But she’s not seventeen anymore, and while her emotions still tend to drive her actions, she likes to believe that she’s learned to temper them with reason.

It’s her reason that is currently reminding Rachel that she and Hayley sadly have something in common other than the drive to succeed in the entertainment industry. Quinn had disappeared on both of them without an explanation or a goodbye. Rachel can’t deny that the woman deserves at least that much that from Quinn now.

But she doesn’t have to like it.

“I want to believe that, Quinn. But you…you never gave her or yourself any kind of closure.” Quinn’s lips part, but Rachel shakes her head, giving voice to her fear before Quinn can stop her. “You can’t be certain that…that there won’t still be something there if you see her again.”

 **QUINN:** “I don’t see how that’s possible,” Quinn tries to assure her girlfriend with a watery smile. “I love you, Rachel. I’m _in_ love with you. And you’re the only person I’ve ever been able to say that about, and I don’t see that changing.”

And even though Quinn has never told Rachel outright that she was in love with her back in high school, she’s done keeping secrets from her girlfriend. “You… you’re everything I ever wanted.”

 **RACHEL:** A trembling smile blooms on her lips at Quinn’s words. She knows that Quinn loves her, and she has no reason to believe Quinn is lying about the depth of her emotions even though she did lie about knowing Hayley. But Rachel has been so certain of things—of her lovers and her relationships—in the past only to end up heartbroken in the end, and she’s not sure she’ll ever fully escape the worry that it could happen again.

“I love you too, Quinn. You’re everything I want now.”

The sparkle of joy in hazel eyes is everything, but Rachel knows this honesty thing goes both ways, so she has to confess, “That’s why I’m…I’m just a little scared that your unfinished business with Hayley might be more unfinished than you believe. If she still has feelings for you…” Rachel trails off with an anxious shake of her head—because how could Hayley not still have feelings for Quinn? She’s Quinn.

 **QUINN:** “That won’t change how I feel about you,” she affirms earnestly, trying to put Rachel’s fears at ease. “This probably makes me sound like a horrible person, but I don’t feel like I need any closure with her… the only reason I would see her is to help her find closure.”

 **RACHEL:** “It doesn’t make you a horrible person,” Rachel assures Quinn as she runs her thumb over Quinn’s fingers where their hands are still linked together. Quinn can’t be any more horrible than Rachel is for wanting Quinn to feel exactly that way. She’s trying her best to squash the little voice of doubt whispering that something might change when Quinn actually sees and talks to Hayley again.

“But Hayley does deserve an explanation from you so she can finally move on,” she concedes reluctantly.

At least, Rachel hopes she’ll be moving on.

 **QUINN:** “I’ll let you know when and where I eventually end up meeting her,” she replies, wanting to do whatever she can to make this easy on Rachel. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark about her anymore. No more secrets, I promise.”

And Quinn really does mean that. Honesty isn’t always easy, but she’s finally realizing that if she and Rachel are going to go the distance, she can’t hide anything—especially not something so important.

 **RACHEL:** Her stomach rolls unpleasantly at the confirmation that Quinn is actually going to meet with Hayley. Rachel had been half hoping that Quinn would tell her she wouldn’t—that she’d just text her or call her to explain and not physically see her again. But she can’t backtrack on her own words now.

“Okay,” she agrees in a small voice. “You should…you should do that. Talk to her,” she reiterates with a firm nod. “And just…keep me in the loop…so I know what’s going on.”

 **QUINN:** Her lips curve down into an uncertain frown. She can tell that Rachel is uneasy—it’s apparent in her eyes and tone of voice and touch—but she’s not sure what to do about it.

“Of course,” Quinn agrees with a soft nod, clasping on to Rachel’s hand a little tighter.

Hazel eyes gaze into dark brown meaningfully for a long moment, and Quinn hopes she can convey the sincerity and devotion of her feelings. “I love you, Rachel. I love you so much, and I will do everything I can to keep your heart safe.”

 **RACHEL:** It helps to hear Quinn say that.

“I believe you,” Rachel says, offering Quinn a weak smile. “And I love you,” she assures her girlfriend.

It isn’t completely Quinn’s fault that Rachel can’t quite seem to also say she trusts her to keep her promises. Her initial lie had set this in motion, of course, but now it’s Rachel’s own insecurities that are keeping her from moving past it.

But, “We’ll get through this,” she vows, knowing she’ll do everything in her power to make sure they do.

 **QUINN:** Relief slowly begins to course through Quinn as her lips curl up ever so slightly. “Whatever it takes,” she adds, eyes searching for long moments before lifting the back of Rachel’s hand to her mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against it.

 **RACHEL:** “Whatever it takes,” Rachel echoes, melting at Quinn’s gentle action.

Quinn loves her. Quinn wants a future with her. It doesn’t matter what Hayley wants, Rachel reminds herself. And if it turns out that she does still want Quinn—well, Rachel isn’t letting that happen without a fight.


End file.
